


Seek the Spark

by spellwovennight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gods and Goddesses, M/M, Magic, Mythology - Freeform, Spark, Werewolves, Wolf-People, historical like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4376633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellwovennight/pseuds/spellwovennight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale's civilization is decaying and his people are dying. When his mother and Head Alpha asks their God for help, they were told one thing: Seek the Spark.</p><p>Stiles Stilinski lived with his family and his best friend Scott. They worked hard to keep their modest and humble living. Stiles took pride in maintaining the best garden in the kingdom for centuries.  He had no idea what awaited him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh! Look at this, publishing time. I had the honor with collaborating and expanding Saran-is-wrapped's original idea and being inspired by her wonderful work. 
> 
> As always thanks to my fellow sterekers for the help and motivation.
> 
> Thanks to ambysplash for her plot structuring help.
> 
> Thanks to Ashli for the beta read!

** **

** **

_It was the night of a new moon, and it was dark; almost pitch black. The pine, spruce, and oak trees of the Dark Forest stood tall and their branches loomed overhead, blocking out any of the starlight.  A black-cloaked figure moved silently between them, blending into the darkness. Not that there was anyone to see the figure as it headed further and further into the thick of the forest. The figure stopped at a particular tree. Purple magic resonated from its fingers as it stooped low against the dirt._

 

“No, Scott,” Stiles told his best friend. 

“But they’re all alone!” Scott argued, pulling the small haunts closer to his body. 

Baby or child might apply to the small, black haired creatures, but they had demonic red eyes and, even young, Stiles could see the beginnings of their nasty claws.  Stiles refused to use such innocent words like baby or child to describe the creatures.

“They’re not bunnies,” Stiles said, exasperated.  He cautiously eyed the creatures.  “They don’t grow up into even fluffier versions of themselves. They’re _haunts_. You know poisonous claws, saliva, killer of men and all that.”

“But-“

“No,” Stiles interrupted him.  They’re of twenty years of age, and Scott still tries to bring home every animal he finds.    “You can’t change their nature.  They probably won’t even die.”

Scott crossed his arms.  “Probably?”

“They _won’t_ die.” Stiles clarified. “Now, let’s get out of here before their mom returns or something.  I don’t want to be around for that.”

Scott hesitated, his butt still sitting firmly on the wood’s floor.

“Poisonous,” Stiles reminded him. 

Scott nodded and finally stands up.  Stiles turned to leave when Scott opens his pack. 

“What are you doing now?” Stiles complained.  He watched as Scott took two apples out of the pack and placed them next to the haunts.   Scott straightened up and shrugged.  “Just in case,” Scott explained.

“Those were ours,” Stiles said, looking down at the apples and feeling suddenly hungry. 

“We’ll get some more,” Scott promised.  Stiles rolled his eyes.  Of course they would.  The tree lived right outside their properties. 

Stiles started to head back home when Scott stops him.  “Wait.  I want to try.”

Stiles stopped and shrugged, indicating for his friend to give it his best shot. Scott squinted at the trees around him and then up to what little he could see of the sky.  He slowly turned around in a circle before pointing west. “That way!”

Stiles snorted and turned and walked the opposite direction.

“Really?” Stiles heard Scott whine behind him before he hurried to catch up to Stiles. 

“You were pointing west.  We live east of here.  And, we didn’t walk near any of the moss-covered trees.  Don’t you pay attention?”

“Never see a reason to,” Scott admitted.  “You always know which direction North is and which way lies home.”

It was true.  His mom called it his sixth sense.  Sense of direction. No matter where he was, Stiles could tell what way lay North.  He always knew the position of the sun in the sky too, even when they had been stuck indoors for hours.  Admittedly, it was a little odd, but as his father said, he had always been a strange child.

They head back towards the town, picking up speed as they go. It was getting darker faster than Stiles thought it would, and he really didn’t want to be outside once it got pitch black. Scott was thinking the same thing, if his apprehensive looks to the sky and equally quickened pace were anything to go by. 

They were minutes away from home, and the sun was no longer visible in the sky. It was not just the animals and creatures that liked to come out at night that Stiles feared. Stiles tried to keep his eyes open and alert as he traveled past the last few trees, but he missed the large tree root that rose slightly above the ground.  His left foot caught on it, and he fell, crashing to the ground. The darkness always impaired his vision more than he would have liked, and made him more prone to clumsy accidents.

Stiles moaned as his body hit the ground, his hands and knees scraping against some sharp rocks buried into the dirt. 

“Not so loud!”  Scott hissed frantically and offered Stiles a hand up. 

Stiles glared upwards from the floor.  “What?  Can’t even ask if I’m okay?”  Stiles whispered as he gripped Scott’s hand, wincing as his cuts rubbed against his friend’s skin.

Scott shrugged and helped him up. “You’re always okay.” Scott looked down Stiles’ form. “Although your trousers aren’t. Your mom’s not going to be happy.”

Stiles sighed.  Scott could always see better in the dark than he could, and he was right. Stiles could feel the tattered scraps of fabric against his knees.  “Can’t do anything about it now.  C’mon, let’s go.”

Even Scott knew the rest of the way home from here, and Stiles let him guide the way back.  He tried to follow Scott’s footsteps exactly, not wanting any other accidents. 

They exited the woods and hopped over the small stream before they came to the very edge of the city, where they lived.   Buildings were more sporadic in nature and spread out then they were closer and closer to the castle. Stiles and Scott’s cottages were thirty yards apart, and had a plot of land in between.  It had been in Stiles’ family for generations. It was a beautiful garden that was the talk of the town and kingdom.   Stiles’ mom, Claudia, had offered to share it with Scott’s family when they created their cottage next door.  It allowed the family to pick some of the vegetables they grew there- tomatoes, lettuce, and sugar snap peas - and helped the Stilinski family take care of it.  There was also an apple tree at the very back, more herbs than Stiles could count, dozens and dozens of flowers. 

Stiles’ father, John, said that Claudia used to have a very green thumb, but the garden wasn’t blooming as it did before Stiles was born.  When asked, Claudia would smile and say that talent doesn’t always stay in the one place. She traded her green thumb in for the talent of being a mother.  Stiles thought the garden looked beautiful and can’t imagine what it would’ve looked like twenty years ago.

Melissa, Scott’s mom, was standing by the apple tree with her arms waiting for them to get home.  “You’re late,” she said as soon as they were in hearing distance, and looked up to the now dark sky. 

“Sorry, Mom,” Scott said, kissing her on the cheek as they approached.  Melissa smiled at her son and then looked at Stiles and shook her head.  “We should get you cleaned up before we eat.” She grabbed his hand and looked at his cuts.  “You didn’t even clean these out?” 

“It just happened,” Stiles said, sulking and pulling his hand back.

Melissa sighed.  “Scott, clean up for dinner and let John and Claudia know we’ll be a few minutes.”   
  
Scott nodded and bounded off to the well. 

Stiles followed Melissa to her cottage. As routine, Stiles grabbed the fresh bucket of water and a towel and sat down by the table.  Melissa grabbed some cloth and the small jar of paste.

Melissa cleaned his wounds with the water and then gingerly applied the paste. It was her own mixture of herbs from the garden, supposed to help sooth and heal cuts and scrapes Stiles and her son kept getting.  She tsked when she got to his torn knees, but didn’t say anything. Stiles covered his hands in the fabric while she worked on his knees.  Melissa held up the cloth in question to his knees, and Stiles shook his head. The bandaging there never stayed on properly, it was just a waste of fabric.  They cleaned up and then went over to Stiles’ cottage for dinner.

 Claudia, John, and Scott were already sitting down at the table when they walked in. When they caught sight of Stiles’ bandaged hands, Claudia smiled and John rolled his eyes.  Neither said anything.  Melissa and Stiles sat down, and they began their dinner of soup and day old bread.  Surprisingly, John was home for dinner.  As a guard for the town, he often worked during dinnertime to late into the night. He normally made it home for one meal during the week. Unlike Rafe, Scott’s father, who lived and worked at the castle and they almost never saw. 

They talked amiably to one another, and sat at the dinner table long after the food was gone.  They gossiped about their days and poked fun at one another in good spirit. Stiles told them how Scott wanted to bring home the haunts, and Melissa countered with a tale of their childhood when they brought home a bear cub.  That took a lot of a special maneuvering not to have an angry mama bear show up in their backyard.  Stiles vaguely remembered standing outside with his mom at the sunflowers while the sun was in the middle of the sky.  They had been praying to Eris, the Goddess of the Sun, but he remembered a bit of a rush and bright blinding light before things get real hazy. 

John half-heartedly lectured Stiles on ruining his clothing, knowing full well it would happen again.  Claudia promised she’d patch them before bed and then mentioned that Jackson had stopped by, and wanted to pick up an order for flowers tomorrow.

 Stiles and Scott sold flowers and other produce from the garden at the market in town. It’s where they spent the majority of their day when they’re not working on the garden or enjoying whatever time off they have in the Eastern Woods.  Jackson was one of their best customers, and Stiles hated him. 

Stiles was surprised that Jackson even buys anything from them, such a lowly stall at the market.  Jackson was of the House of Whittemore, one of the wealthiest Lords of the land.  Normally, Jackson would never step foot near the market, let alone buy anything. He has people to do that for him or nicer, fancier flower shops to go to, as he always reminded Stiles and Scott when they exchanged their finest flowers for Jackson’s money. Stiles would sneer and comment that their lowly, filthy flowers obviously wasn’t good enough for him. Then, Scott would step on his foot in annoyance, not wanting to scare Jackson off.  Jackson would huff, but not without leaving with the finest bouquet.  Stiles felt a mix of satisfaction and annoyance that he overcharged Jackson every time, and the man never batted an eye.  The truth was, even without Claudia’s green thumb, they still had some of the best flowers in the kingdom, and Jackson’s beloved, Lydia, deserved the best.

Eventually, Jackson started getting smart about it, and showed up at the garden instead of the market.  There, he was able to place exactly what flowers he wanted, instead of the limited selection that they brought with them to market. Once, he even brought seeds that he wanted them to grow.  It was a good arrangement, Stiles thought, because he never stayed long and it meant they could charge him even more. 

Stiles had seen his Lydia only a few times. She was always dressed fashionably and stood out against the rest of the peasants.  She would wait for Jackson outside of the market square and underneath the shade of one of the nearby buildings.  Stiles only knew it was her for the way Jackson presented the flowers to her and for her fiery red hair.  He heard more rumors about her than he had seen her.  She was from the House of Martin, and was trained to be a priestess for the Goddess Eola at a young age, but then left the order. No one was entirely sure what she continued to do.  Some said she was a druid, others murmured about dark magic and strong influence, properties of a darach, or perhaps she had resorted to the life of a mistress. Stiles wasn’t’ sure, but he knew she wasn’t lacking in money and didn’t seem too impressed by the flowers his garden produced.  Or she wasn’t impressed by Jackson’s wooing techniques, Stiles wasn’t sure.

Stiles promised to arrange Jackson’s flowers to be picked up in two days’ time, and not soon after, the family cleaned up the table and made a slow process for bed.  Stiles crawled onto his own mattress by the hearth, and opened a well-worn book. Claudia said that her line of the family had been literate for generations, making a point to teach all their children to read.  Stiles, Scott, Melissa, and John were given lessons at the same time.  Claudia argued there was no reason they all shouldn’t learn.

They only owned a few books, most of them practical and used as guidebooks.  His favorite was also practical, , but it was more of a narrative.  Stiles enjoyed reading the religious text as if it was a bedtime story. Stiles fell into the history of the Goddess of Eola, the Goddess of Wisdom, and tuned out his surroundings.   The quiet murmurings of his parents in their bed and the sound of Claudia fixing his trousers disappeared. Eventually Stiles lost focus all together and fell asleep, content and peaceful.    

 

Derek frowned at the gathering of his people. Even within his own time, their numbers have seemed to decrease.  He remembers when the Wolf-People used to fill the almost the entire clearing around the Nemeton, the shrine of Elatha, the God of the moon.  Now, it was not even half full of people.  More people were dying earlier in their lifespan, and infants weren’t living through the first month. They were deaths that his kind normally didn’t have any problem with; it was too human. He has heard talk amongst the elders and the alphas how they weren’t as strong as they once were either, and they weren’t talking as a civilization.  Individually, they weren’t as strong and weren’t healing as quickly. Talia, who was his mother, alpha, and the head alpha, thought wolfsbane had started to grow. But none has been found, nor was anyone suffering from its specific side effects of bleeding black and having the black veins of poison.

Their people were slowly dying, and no one knew why. They were here at Elatha’s shrine to ask for help or forgiveness.  Some thought they had done something wrong to anger the god and take their power away from them.  Talia didn’t think they had strayed from their path or well wishes of the God, and, personally, Derek agreed.  But Talia hoped that Elatha would help guide them to better times.  Deaton, the Emissary to the Wolf-People of the Dark Forest and also the Head Priest of Elatha, finished the ritual sacrifice on the Nemeton.  The large stump of the pedunculated oak tree absorbed the blood of the slaughtered deer.

Derek watched as his Emissary stayed kneeling and bowed on the hard, dirt floor, waiting for a clue that Elatha would help them. Only a few minutes passed before the cool blue crystal in his staff glowed brightly, reminding Derek of the illumination of the moon.  The crystal that Deaton had worked into a staff was his connection to Elatha, a way to communicate directly.  As Emissary, he was the balance between the beings of Earth and their Gods, which required a more direct line of communication than being a Head Priest received.

All around him, people breathed out in relief that Elatha agreed to contact them through the crystal.  Derek did not relax yet.  The God might not share good news with them.  Deaton was still for a bit longer before he raised and turned to address the crowd.  The Eye of Knowledge that was sketched into his forehead by Elatha to mark his Emissary looked darker than normal, contrasting greatly against the brown of Deaton’s skin.  The crystal grew even brighter as Deaton spoke, his voice deeper and louder than normal.

“Seek the Spark.”

 

The woman mulled over the books in front of her. Ancient texts and scrolls of history and religion from as far back as she could find.  She had pulled her resources and her connections to get into this particular library and even had access to the journals of king’s advisors of the past.  References were slim at best in the most recent and readable texts.  Disappointingly, the Spark was seen as a legend or a myth; something that only existed hundreds of years ago, when the gods first started investing themselves in the Earth and its inhabitants. But, it did appear roughly around the same time as the creation of the Wolf-People.  

The woman sighed and pulled her notes and the most ancient texts towards her, carefully, so she wouldn’t damage them. Most of them were written in the older vernacular and were very difficult to read.  She sighed as she dived into the text.  She browsed it first, looking for anything that would stand out. A name caught her eye, one that had stayed the same through the ages.  Eris. _Interesting_. She could only assumed that it was referencing the Goddess of the Sun.  She narrowed her focus in and got to work. 

 

Derek stood awkwardly to the side of the Nemeton. Talia had called another gathering amongst the packs of the Wolf-People in the Dark Forest. She and the other alphas had held council after Deaton’s announcement, figuring out which action to take next. Talia had found him afterwards and updated him on the situation, wanting him to be involved. Of course, Derek agreed. He was a Knight, a fighter of his people; it was what he chose to do.

Talia turned to the crowd.  “We have come to a decision,” she announced loudly. There was a reason she was head alpha, she personified strength and leadership.  Everyone immediately grew silent, respectfully paying attention.

“We asked for Elatha’s help, and he has generously agreed to do so,’ she continued, her voice echoing through the clearing. “To seek the spark, and we shall do so. The alphas and I have decided to send five our best out to find it.”  She gestured over to her right where Derek and four other Wolf-People were standing. “First, we have Erica and Vernon of the Boyd pack.”  Erica and Vernon Boyd stepped forward.  “As seen through their matrimony, they balance one another out perfectly and will be the perfect team.  Second, my son, Derek of the Hale pack.”  Derek moved forward next to Boyd.  “One of our best knights and of superior hunting skills.  And last, Ethan and Aiden of the Hayes pack.”  The twins walked over to join Derek.  “As twins, they have special abilities that even our most powerful Wolf-Peoples do not possess.”

Talia paused and let her audience look at the strong, young Wolf-People in front of them.  They represented the pike of their civilization and what they were trying to get back to.  “They have accepted the quest to Seek the Spark, and we hope that the moon is on their side.”

“Elatha be willing,” the crowd chanted in response.

Derek and his friends bowed in response, accepting their blessing.  And that was it, Derek thought.  He was ready to get away from everyone’s attention.  Meeting was adjourned.

Apparently not, as a voice called out, “How do we know the spark exists?”

It didn’t take long to identify the speaker as he had pushed to the front of the crowd as he spoke.  It was the large and muscular Ennis.

Talia narrowed her eyes in response. “You doubt the word of the Elatha?” she asked icily. 

Ennis frowned.  He looked like pure muscle, but he wasn’t as stupid as he looked. It wasn’t a small thing to doubt Elatha, the ones who gave the Wolf-People power.  “What is it?”  He asked instead. “I have heard nothing but rumors.”

Deaton appeared at Talia’s side. He looked at her for permission and she nodded.  “Rumors,” Deaton said, looking Ennis in the eye.  “You are nothing but rumors to those living far to the South.  Part of the story of Elatha’s power, but here you are alive and living.”  Deaton paused as he let that sink in.  “I do not know what you know and what you do not, but these are the facts as I can share them. The Spark is the most powerful essence on Earth inside a human body and under the protection of the gods. It is due to the gods, that the Spark has become seen as only a myth.  Do not let that delude you from Elatha’s words.  He speaks the truth.” 

Ennis bowed his head, not daring to contradict the emissary himself. 

Deaton turned towards Derek and his friends. “Wolf-People, seek the Spark and bring him back to the Elatha at his Nemeton.” 

Derek’s eyes flickered to the large tree stump. The Shrine of Elatha where all their rituals and sacrifices were held.  In Derek’s living memory, they had never sacrificed a creature with knowledge behind its eyes before.  Only animals driven purely by instinct and not gifted with the intellect. Derek looked to his people a shadow of what they once were.  Derek felt his eyes bleed blue.  If they need to sacrifice a human to save his people, so be it.

 

Kira stood at the back of the crowd.  She wasn’t technically part of the Wolf-People or in any of their packs, so she didn’t always feel like she belonged; however, the Dark Forest was her home and she lived amongst the Wolf-People.  As a kitsune that had lightning coursing through her veins, it was a challenge for her to find her place amongst those that relied on their brute strength and sharp claws. Her mother always cautions against their neighbors, stating that that foxes and wolves do not play nice, but they’re never words that Kira’s has ever taken seriously.  She has been friends with the Wolf-People since she was born; Derek, Isaac, Erica and Boyd were her closest friends.  Kira and her family lived in the Dark Forest because her mother had sworn her allegiance to Elatha in return for some help before she was born.  An allegiance that Kira and her human father followed as well. 

It was more than an allegiance that made her itch to participate and help find the spark.  They were her friends, and she didn’t want them dying off either. Even she could feel the change in energy in them.  It had lowered since she was a kid.  She jumped a little in place, trying to shake off the itch and anticipation.  She thought about going with Derek and helping. He might not approve, but he would never find it in himself to tell her to go home; he was too much of a pushover.   But, she pondered over that line of action, her gut pulled away from that idea. It told her to stay home at the Dark Forest.  Kira didn’t like the idea of waiting, but as Talia sent the seekers off on their quest, Kira stayed where she was.  If she changed her mind, there was always tomorrow.  She knew Derek wasn’t going to be leaving on a wild goose chase for the spark this very moment.

 

The woman’s eyes flickered over her translations. Certain words popped out her, and she slowly put the facts together.  Wolf-People.  Jealousy. Twins.  Elatha.  Eris. Power.  Destruction. 

It wasn’t everything, but it was something. A much stronger start than she had. She closed the books and put them away and carefully packed her own notes into her bag, her fingers crossing over the sigil carved into the leather.  She quietly left the tunnels of the archives, emerging to where priestesses were bowed down in prayer.  She left the sanctuary as softly as she could.  She moved quickly through the city, not wishing to be distracted or delayed, and headed towards the heart of the Eastern Woods.  She had people to talk to and more work to do.

Stiles winced as he slowly made his way back home. He had woken early that morning and had tended to the garden.  For some reason, it had gone quicker than expected, his fingers flying through his chores like magic.  Since he finished early, he had some free time on his hands before Jackson arrived for his flowers.  Stiles, feeling energetic, had gone into the woods, hoping to walk off some of his energy. 

Fifteen minutes in, he had thought he had spied a thistle nest for pixies up in one of the higher branches in the trees. Although Scott was the one that always wants to take the creatures, magical or not, home with them, Stiles was usually the one to find them.  Like the haunts, Stiles had heard weird noises and decided to investigate. Sometimes, you can make deals with the magical creatures or they can lead you to something valuable, but that has rarely happened in Stiles’ experience.  Generally, Stiles finds them interesting and fascinating to watch.

So, Stiles had decided to inspect the nest, and climbed up the tree.  With his long and strong limbs, it wasn’t that difficult to lift himself up and climb branch to branch, even if he did almost slip a couple of times. 

Stiles’ theory had been correct; the nest had been home to some pixies.  They had not been happy to see Stiles at first, but he had bartered his way into their good graces with trinkets from his sack.  There were left over pieces of fabric from when Claudia had last used the sack, an old compass that he never need to use, and a hard-boiled egg. Once he had thought he had entered their good graces, he had tried communicating to them.  Stiles had thought that they had found him funny, not annoying or irksome until they had flown at him, pest like.  Stiles not only had gotten distracted but had lost his balance and fell from the branch. 

He had managed to roll a bit when he landed, so he hadn’t thought he had broken anything, but it had hurt like hell when he finally found the energy to get his body off the dirt floor. He had scowled up at the pixies, who weren’t paying him any attention and had made his way back home.

He knew he probably looked like a mess, especially since he kept running his hands through his hair in irritation from the pixie’s behavior.  He can already see the dirt smeared into his clothes and down his forearms.  At least Dad can’t complain that he ripped them, he thought as he tried to wipe the dirt off. 

He arrived at his cottage before Jackson, so as quickly as he could move, he got a bucket of fresh well water to start washing off. He stripped out of his clothes and scrubbed his body down, using his eyes and the reflection in the water to deem if he was dirt free.  He dumped his dirty clothes in the water and pulled his spare clothes on.  He rushed out to the garden to group the flower arrangement he had done that morning and put it in the cottage so it would be handy when Jackson arrived.  As Stiles waited, he started trying to wash the dirt and grass stains out of his clothing.

There was a knock on the door five minutes later. Stiles quickly dried his hands and grabbed the flowers before opening the door.  To his surprise, he opened the door to not only Jackson, but Lydia too. He stood there with his mouth gaping open and the flowers dangling in his hands. 

Jackson scowled at him, but glanced at Lydia and straightened up.  “Lydia, this is Stiles, the gardener who put together a special bouquet just for you.” He glared at Stiles and Stiles managed to present the flowers to her. Jackson nodded and then pushed the next few words out past his teeth, “Stiles, this is Lydia, House of Martin. 

Lydia smiled and took the flowers from Stiles’ grasp. Stiles released them and let his hand fall uselessly down to his side.  Lydia was beautiful.  He had assumed as much since Jackson was chasing after her, and she had appeared lovely from a distance. But it didn’t prepare Stiles for seeing her face to face.  Her skin was pale and smooth; flawless.  Her hazel eyes were bright and knowing as they took in Stiles’ appearance. Her mouth curved into a perfect smirk as if she knew what he was thinking.  Her purple dress flattered her figure, drawing Stiles’ eyes down to her bosom before he got distracted by her hair.  He knew it was a fiery red, but it was only then that he remembered that those with the hair color fire were notorious for the magical ability. Her hair was attractive quality, long and flowing, beautifully framing her face, but it mostly made him realize her magical potential and his gaze was drawn back to her eyes. Maybe it wasn’t just power he saw there.

Lydia was still smirking when Stiles finished his study of her, and she must have realized it because her smile widened and her eyebrows rose pointedly. Stile grinned, meeting the challenge. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Lady Lydia,” he said as he gently took her hand and kissed her fingers.

Jackson glared daggers at him, and Lydia looked amused. Her smile looked less like a smirk but more genuine.  “The pleasure’s all mine.” She glanced down at the flowers in her hands.  “Orchids have always been my favorite, as Jackson knows.  The ones from your garden are quite exquisite. The gardener must be very talented with his hands to nurture such lovely flowers.” 

Stiles was thrown at the comment at first, but then noticed at how Jackson’s hands were balled into fists and his knuckles were starting to turn white from clenching them.  Lydia might be using him, but Stiles didn’t mind if it was at Jackson’s expense.

Stiles smiled at Lydia, his eyes sparkling with mischief.  “My talent extends beyond just flowers, my Lady.”  He watched as Lydia’s eyebrows rose slowly in response.  Her smile twitched as if it meant to grow wider.   
  
“Oh?” She remarked, “How so?”

Before Stiles could respond, Lydia’s playful manner disappeared completely and dissolved into genuine surprise. “You read?” She asked, looking beyond him.

“Er, Yes.” Stiles replied, turning around to see what had caught Lydia’s attention.  There on the kitchen table lay Stiles’ book, where he had left it after he woke up that morning.  When he moved back to face Jackson and Lydia, Lydia had schooled her features back to normal.

“Talented with your hands and your mind,” she practically purred, “that is a rarity these days.”  Her eyes flickered to Jackson as she spoke, who turned an angry shade of red.  “What is it that you read?”

“Mostly the stories of the gods,” Stiles replied. “The stories of the Goddess Rosmerta are some of my favorites.”

“Indeed,” Lydia murmured.  Jackson glanced between them, the reference to the Goddess of Fertility and Love having gone over his head, and Stiles smirked.  “Have you ever come across Aonghus’ love doves?” She asked, batting her eyelashes.

Stiles nodded thinking back to when they had found one wounded by the apple tree with its mate cooing sadly overhead. Scott had wanted to bandage the bird’s wing, but Melissa had hurried out of the house, stopping them from touching the animal.  She had scolded them and had reminded them that one touch of their beaks can cause you to become suddenly infatuated with someone.  She had kept her eyes on the one circling above and made them all put on tough gardening clothes before they tended the creature.  It took a week before the love dove was able to fly again, and Melissa had made sure to keep them in the house while its mate was circling around.

“Really?  How curious,” Lydia said, her voice dropping an octave.  The look in her eyes had changed somewhat, causing Stiles to feel uncertain in the game they were playing. 

Jackson took advantage of Stiles’ silence. “Lydia, we should get going.  We’re going to be late.”

“Yes, of course,’ Lydia said, not even glancing at Jackson.  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Stiles.  I would love to explore your garden some time.” 

Stiles grinned.  “You are welcome to explore anytime, my Lady.  A private tour just for you.”  He bent down and kissed her fingers again, and Lydia beamed before she let Jackson usher her back to their carriage. 

Stiles closed the door, not bothering to watch their departure.  He laughed a little to himself as he replayed Jackson’s reactions in his head before he thought of Lydia.  Lydia was. . .well, she was something.  Not only was she stunning, but she was clever and walked all over Jackson.  Stiles knew he was missing information, but he was intrigued by her, and had enjoyed her company.  He wondered if she would actually visit again. 

 

Derek closed his eyes as he let his wolf emerge from within.  He felt his nails and teeth lengthen and sharpen.  He stretched slightly as his face transfigured to give him better sight and hearing. He flickered his eyes open, bright blue spilling from them. 

He focused on the scene around him. He did not see anything but trees, but he could hear the heartbeats of the creatures around him. There were many underground and far above, but Derek concentrated for one above the ground. He moved forward silently, taking care not to step on any twigs. 

Ten minutes later, he finally found what he was looking for.  He narrowed in on his prey, his body tensing and coiling into a ball. 

The moment it stopped eating and lifted his head, Derek pounced. 

* * *

 

Derek dropped the deer off his shoulders at the base of the Nemeton.  It had taken more skill than he had thought to suffocate the deer without killing it. He needed it fresh for the sacrifice. He sighed as he knelt down next to it, waiting for it to regain consciousness.  He placed his hand gently against the deer’s neck, feeling the blood beat through its veins. 

He waited patiently, until the deer was close to consciousness, and then he carefully picked it up and laid it directly center on the trunk of the Nemeton.  Then he kneeled, knees falling in well-worn and sunken patches of dirt on the ground. He took a deep breath before he began, praising Elatha. 

“Elatha, Blessed God of the Moon and father of our people.  You are our Moon, our light, our strength.  Without you, we would be naught.  We thank you, for we are blessed and beyond humans.  You are our savior,” Derek recited from memory. 

“I have brought this deer for you,” Derek said slowly trying to time it correctly, “Fresh and alive with its heart still beating and its blood still vital, which I give,” he paused and seconds later the deer’s eyes flew open and started to move in panic, but Derek was quicker.

“For you” He said as he used his claw to slit its throat.  He watched momentarily as the blood drained out of wound and was soaked up by the Nemeton. “I hope it feeds you and keeps you well. I ask for guidance, my father. You showed us mercy and kindness when you told us to seek the spark.  I’m afraid I ask for more in seeking this legendary creature. I beg of you.”

Derek closed his eyes, bowed his head, and kept his hands firmly on the Nemeton, expecting to wait for a long time for a response. It wasn’t rare for Elatha to take up to an hour to respond, if he responded at all.  To his surprise, he felt a presence only minutes later.   The Nemeton became cool to the touch and then Derek felt the sacrificial blood rush under his hands, staining them. Derek kept as still as he possibly could, until he could no longer feel the blood underneath his hands and the Nemeton became warmer. 

“My thanks and gratitude Elatha. Please continue to guide and protect me on this mission” Derek whispered, leaning his head down to the Nemeton before he raised and opened his eyes. Carefully, he turned his hands over. On each palm remained a picture created by stain blood.  On his right was a figure of a human, probably a man.  On his left was a circle.  He stared at them, puzzled, and then shook his head.  He knew who could help him.  He turned around – and froze.

Deaton stood just feet behind him, still and quiet as a statue.  Derek made eye contact and Deaton smiled.

“Emissary,” Derek said after his heart stopped pounding so hard in surprise.  “I was about to come and seek your aid. 

“I know,” Deaton said.

Derek didn’t respond.  He was never completely comfortable with the powers the Emissary had, like the limited foresight he received through the Eye of Knowledge. Derek did not like that Deaton knew what he was going to do before he did it at times.  It made him question how much of a choice he really had. 

Deaton stepped forward.  “I knew you would come here.  Talia has raised you well in the art of the gods. I knew you would complete a ritual before starting your quest.”  Deaton looked down at Derek’s hands and then held his own out.  “Let me see.”

Derek walked closer to Deaton and placed his hands in Deaton’s, the palms turned upwards.  Deaton looked at them, before using his left hand to trace the circle. 

“What do you see, Knight?”  Deaton asked him, his eyes never leaving the symbols.

Derek glanced down at his palms. “A man,” he replied, more sure of that symbol.  He thought silently, as he looked at the circle, a dark red spot at the center of his palm. “The sun,” he finally said softly.  

Deaton looked up and gave a small smile. “Yes.  As in the stories.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to think of the stories that Deaton was referring to.  Bits and pieces slowly came back to him.  He remembered them in his mom’s voice, when he was younger, telling them to him.  The history of their people: how Elatha made them into being, and how his sister Eris, the Goddess of the Sun had become jealous.  She had wanted a connection to someone on Earth too, and injected her essence into a human.   His eyes flickered down to his right palm.  The Spark now resided in a man. 

“Where can I find him?” He asked Deaton.

Deaton shook his head and dropped Derek’s hands.  “That I do not know, for I am neither the Emissary nor the Priestess of Eris. She has gone through many pains to keep her Spark hidden.”

“It could be anyone. Any man,” Derek said, annoyed. It still wasn’t much to go on.

Deaton stared at him. “The Spark is under the protection of Eris,” he stated clearly and then turned at left. 

Derek wasn’t sure if Eris would help him if he was going to sacrifice it, but there was only one way to find out.  Derek headed home to collect the supplies he would need and then started his voyage to the Shrine of Eris.

She watched him carefully, observing every move the wild, limbed just barely a man made.  She added every piece of information she collected to her puzzle. According to her research, the Spark had been around for generations and somehow passed down through family lines.

She reached out with her power, feeling the land around her.  This place reeked of magic, but she couldn’t spot it with her eyes.  It was embedded into the land and was crawling all over the one cottage. The man was tending his garden, and she watched as he cut his finger on a thorn and started cursing.

The gardener did not seem very adept, but the garden looked beautiful anyways.  She had made inquiries about the garden too.  Within the constraints of living memory, it has always been the most picturesque garden in the land.  She wondered if it was possible for the Spark to infuse the plants with his or her magic, causing the land to feel entrenched in it as it was.  The magic around the house would be explained if a Spark has always lived there, small magic infusing into its surfaces and mounting through time. 

The land was her biggest indicator that she was right, that the Spark lived here.  It was the conversations that she overheard that narrowed her suspicions on the man. The mothers’ laughing conversations on how much trouble their boys could get into, but were never late for a meal. How Stiles would always just know what time it was and appear and drag Scott into the kitchen. There was the father teasing the mother about how her green thumb had lost some of its power. Stiles pretending to be annoyed that Scott always got lost or didn’t know which way to go, and Scott accusing him to be weirdly blessed with a compass in his head. 

Things had added up, and she was fairly certain that Stiles was the Spark. 

 

Derek arrived at the town closest to the Shrine of Eris a few days later.  He was tired and dirty from his travels.  He felt the pressure to act, to save his home and desperately wanted to go right ahead and ask for Eris’ help, but he saw the judgmental looks on passer-bys’ faces, and found an inn. He needed to make a good impression on Eris in order to receive her help.  He was glad that he had shifted back into a more human appearance at the last town; his rough appearance alone made the owners cautious of him. He had to throw in an extra small golden trinket on the table for them to accept him at their in.

As soon as the innkeeper and her husband were satisfied and had shown him to his room, Derek closed the door shut and stripped down. There was a jar full of water and a small basin.  He dumped the water and pulled a piece of cloth out of his pack and started scrubbing his body. He rung the dirty water out of the open window.  When he was satisfied that all the dirt was gone, he collapsed on the bed, letting his muscles relax for a few minutes as he waited for the water to evaporate from his body. He had traveled so far in a rush and didn’t take a lot of time to break and rest.  It wasn’t long before his eyes closed on their own accord, and he fell asleep.

* * *

 Derek dreamed.  There was the Moon and the Sun in the sky, both shining brightly. Instead of the expected chaos of the two celestial beings in the same sky, it was calm.  Derek felt a surge of power and confidence rip through him. He brought his eyes back down to Earth where grass lay as far as he could see with an old oak tree and an apple tree. Two figures stood side by side. A moonbeam shot towards the man and the oak tree.  The man shifted. He turned to the woman, and embraced passionately.  As the man lay down with the woman, a beam of light from the sun made the woman’s belly button glow as she cried out in ecstasy.  The man followed shortly after, and the two became one.  Another man stood in their place, and Derek felt his heart flutter in his chest.  The man came and stood directly in front of him, and smiled. 

* * *

 

 Derek woke up, restless. The moon was high in the sky, and Derek could feel it pulling at him.  He frowned at himself, angry for falling asleep.  Nighttime was not when he should seek help from Eris. Unable to fall back asleep, Derek pulled on his dirty clothes, and headed back outside.  Making sure no one was around, he shifted and started to run, giving in to the moon’s pull. As he recited the rituals and prays in for Elatha, he remembered that he had dreamed, but he couldn’t remember of what.  He tried hard to remember, but only was left with excited anticipation brewing in his stomach. After a few miles of running, he returned to the inn, determined to get some sleep.  As he fell asleep, he convinced himself that the feeling and the dream had been a good thing.  

* * *

 

Derek arrived at the Shrine of Eris when the sun was high in the sky.  A priestess greeted him. Beyond her, he could see multiple people praying around a rock formation with symbols carved into them. The shrine.  Derek couldn’t help but marvel how different it was from the Nemeton. 

The priestess cleared her voice softly, and Derek looked back to her.  He stood, straight, tall, and proud, as a knight should, but anxiety loomed underneath the surface, wondering if he was appropriately dressed.  He didn’t wear any of his knights clothes, for they all had loyalties to Elatha, but he wore his nicest items.  Not the ones that he had traveled in that were soaked with sweat.

The priestess smiled at him, encouragingly.

Derek nodded and opened his mouth. “I request to see the High Priestess and Emissary of Eris.”

The girls’ eyes grew wide in surprised and gestured for him to wait, for she turned and hurried beyond the shrine.

As Derek waited, people came and left. He started to wonder if he had been forgotten, or worse, ignored.  When he was debating of going directly to the shrine, a dark haired woman approached with the Eye of Knowledge carved onto her forehead, Eris’ Emissary. He bowed his head when she came up to him.

Her eyes scrutinized him while Derek returned to his stance as a knight; silent and patient. 

“Child of Elatha,” She finally spoke, addressing him. “What business do you have here?”  
  
“I have come to ask for Eris, Goddess of the Sun and sister of Elatha, to aide me in my quest.” 

The Emissary frowned.  “You are welcome to pray at the shrine and make your case.”

Derek shook his head, “I will pray and give my regards to the Goddess, but I ask for interpretation.”

She gestured to the multiple priestesses behind her. “Anyone of them can provide you with assistance.  Why did you ask for me?”

“Elatha sent me to seek the Spark,” Derek explained. “My quest has led me here.  I needed my Emissary’s help then.  I figured I would need your help now.”

Her lips drew into a thin line.  “My brother helps more than he should.”

“Brother?” Derek said, his eyebrows going up in surprise.  But then he started to notice small similarities between her and Deaton, like the shape of their eyes.

She continued on speaking, as if he hadn’t spoken. “You have received enough help, Knight. I suggest you use it to your advantage.” She went to turn away, but the yellow crystal on the chain around her neck began to glow.  Eris had deemed him worthy enough to pay attention to. 

She stood still with her eyes closed as Eris communicated to her through the crystal.  Only when it no longer exudedany light, but lay dull against her neck did she open her eyes. “It appears you have the favor of the gods.  Or your quest does. I will not tell you who the Spark is, but I shall tell you this: Look for where two dwellings meet with its own nursery inbetween.  There, colors bloom from the earth.  They are sought by those under the protection of Argent seek to exchange for goods.”

With that, she turned and left, vanishing into the crowd.  Derek stood, processing as she left.  He had no what she had meant. It was like she was talking in riddles. He sighed wearily and put that thought off for now, and went to pray his thanks and praises to Eris at the shrine.

 

Stiles was leaning against the trunk of the apple tree, sitting on one of the lower branches and munching on an apple. He and Scott had just gotten back from the market and Stiles was taking, what he felt, was a well-deserved break. He finished his apple and threw the core as far as he could towards the woods.  He was debating on a second apple when he spied Lydia approaching his home. Stiles smiled and quickly swung back to the ground.  

Lydia had visited with Jackson once more since the first time a week ago, and she had shown up by herself twice after that. Stiles liked her, a lot. She was intelligent and bold, not afraid to tell him he was wrong (or stupid).  Most people Stiles knew would never be that direct with a stranger. He only had that type of relationship with his parents, Scott and Melissa, and Lydia just jumped right into it.

Originally, Stiles thought Lydia only visited him to make Jackson jealous, or prove some point – he wasn’t clear on how their relationship worked.  It had thrown him for a loop when she had shown up alone. She had spent most of the day watching him work in the garden.  She made it clear she didn’t enjoy getting her hands, or more importantly her dresses, dirty.  As the day grew on, Stiles got the sense that she was able to relax and feel more at ease than she had in a long time.  It was clear she was a scholar from the way she questioned him about the garden; what he was doing, how it worked, and the effect it had on the market and vice versa. Stiles liked that she pushed him. He enjoyed the challenge.

Now, Stiles grabbed an extra apple and shined it with his shirt’s sleeve and met her at the front of the garden.

“For you M’Lady,” he said with a grand gesture, bowing low.  Lydia rolled her eyes but took the apple anyways. 

“You do know I’m not a Lady, correct?”

Stiles shrugged as he straightened up. “You might as well be one,” he replied. He eyed her outfit. It might not have been entirely formal or extravagant, but decidedly fashionable and expensive. “You _look_ like one.”

She gave him a cryptic look.  “Looks can be deceiving.” 

“Like how you actually have brains?” he asked her, not able to stop his mouth in time.  He bit his lip and turned around so he wouldn’t see her expression. He didn’t know what her weird look at him was for either. 

“Do I look like someone who would you expect me to go on a quest?”

“A quest for the best gown in all the land?” Stiles asked, he turned back to her and grinned in a joking manner. She clenched her lips together, narrowed her eyes and tilted her head.  Stiles stopped smiling.  “What kind of quest?”

Lydia didn’t answer at first.  She made her way through the garden, first looking at the herbs before stopping in front of the flowers.  She leaned forward to smell them as she asked, “Oh just for a nixie.”

Stiles’ eyebrows rocketed in surprise. “A nixie?”

“Yes.  Would you be interested?”

“I. uh, Yeah!  Um. Is this my quest?”  Stiles stumbled over his words in his excitement before trailing off in confusion.

“You would accompany me.”

“I can do that,” Stiles answered, not minding having to spend time with Lydia.  “When?”

“Tonight,” she said as she plucked a rose from the earth. 

“Oh,” Stiles said, surprised.  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?  Being in the woods after dark and everything?”

“You’re not scared of a little dark, are you Stiles?” She asked, turning around, the rose clutched tight in her fingers. 

“It’s not the dark so much like the creatures that come out of it.”

“Like nixies.”

“I, uh.  Yeah,” Stiles said, as he thought about it.  Nixies were water spirits.  Rumor had it they took shape at night under the protection of the night sky.   “That makes sense.”

“Indeed.  I will see you tonight, Stiles.”  She said, heading back for the main road. 

“Okay.  You’ll be back?”

“Tonight,” she repeated, with a little annoyance laced through. 

“Yes, M’Lady,” he said, bowing again. After he stood up he said, “You act like one too.” 

Lydia frowned at that, but continued on her way to the road.  Stiles sighed as he watched her go.  If he was going to be out late, he might fall behind the following morning.  He had a lot of work to do before then.  He groaned and then threw his head back and yelled, “Scotty, get your ass out here!  We got work to do!”

* * *

 

Stiles had decided that he would not tell his parents about his. . .quest.  They knew his tendencies to attract the magical folk and they knew his tendencies to end up with bruises, cuts, scrapes, and, memorably, a broken wrist because of them.  Instead he had casually mentioned it to Scott before bed, so Scott wouldn’t freak out about having to keep a secret from their parents, grabbed his cloak in case it got chilly, and snuck out to the apple tree to wait. 

Lydia appeared when the sky was dark and the moon hung high in the sky.  For some foolish reason, Stiles thought she might have changed into something more suitable for trampling through the woods (although Lydia probably didn’t tramp). No, she was wearing the same thing as before.  Her long, blue dress brushed against the floor as she walked.  Stiles eyed her long, flowing sleeves distastefully.  There was no way that they wouldn’t get caught in something, but Stiles held his tongue.  He was too excited for a chance to see nixies. 

They greeted each one another amiably and headed towards the woods.  After pestering Lydia with question after question, Lydia finally told him to shut up and told him a little about herself.  It was interesting to compare truth to rumor.  She had been dedicated to be a priestess for Eola by her parents. She had enjoyed the lifestyle it revealed to her, and the opportunities she had.  She explained that spent most of her time with the books and in their libraries.  She had wanted to learn more than the shrine and Eola’s library could offer, so she left.

Lydia fell silent after that.  Stiles wasn’t sure if it was because it was difficult for her to talk about that transition in her life or because she had shared with him as much as she was willing.  Stiles managed to keep his mouth shut for once and didn’t pry any further. Instead, he did what he does best. Ignored the lingering pause and changed the subject. 

“Lydia?” He asked, realizing just how far away they were from his cottage.  “Do you know where we’re going?” 

Stiles felt more than saw Lydia turn her face towards him and give him a judgmental stare. 

“We’re awfully far north.  The woods don’t continue for more than a mile or so.”

“I know where we’re going, Stiles,” Lydia responded, her voice cold. 

Stiles bit his lip and didn’t say anything. There was something irking him, but he couldn’t pin point it.  They traveled in silence for a few minutes before Stiles got restless.

“Why do you want to find a nixie?”

“Curiosity mostly,” she admitted. “I heard rumors of where to find them.  You were extremely excited when I mentioned them.  Too excited for a sane person.  Why did you come?”

“I want to hear their music.”

Lydia halted and slowly turned to him. “The music that’s meant to lure you to your death?”

Stiles shrugged and continued walking. “That’s why we’re here together, isn’t it?  Just make sure I don’t drown or do anything dumb.”

“That’s not going to be easy,” Lydia said under her breath before catching up to him and taking back the lead. 

 

Lydia made herself move calmly through the woods, although the anticipation strummed through her and she wished to hurry Stiles along.  She reined that energy in and focused on the land around her.  She knew the Lake of Afli was close, she could feel its power growing stronger with each step.  

She ran through the steps of the ritual in her head, making sure she wouldn’t forget anything.  It was crucial that she did everything precisely.  She heard Stiles inhale sharply next to her, and she turned to find his face turned down in harsh lines.  He was anxious.  That was a good and bad sign.  If he was the Keeper of the Spark, like she suspected, he was probably feeling the pulsing of the lake, just like she was; however, if that was true, she didn’t know how much longer she could get him to cooperate.  She harnessed her power, concentrating it in the palms of her hands, ready for anything. 

She saw a glimpse of the lake up head.  She just had to find the correct spot, where the earth jutted into the lake and the flowers grew.  The place where she could steal the Spark.

  

Something was wrong.   He felt this terrible presence the further and further north they walked.  He kept his senses on the lookout for some creature that could be causing his unease, but he couldn’t see _any_ animals, magical or otherwise. That didn’t reassure him in the least. Then, they came across the lake. There was only one lake this far north, the Lake of Afli.  Stiles had heard stories of it, and not just from his family.  Stories that sounded like they were made to scare small children were told in hushed voices, as if they were scared to speak its name too loud. Stiles would have been curious to explore it, if he hadn’t seen the looks on the adults’ faces when they spoke of it. They had been terrified, and Stiles realized, uneasily, that it wasn’t just a story for children. Terrible things had happened there, things no one would ever speak about, but Stiles could believe it has they got closer and closer. 

“Lydia,” he whispered frantically and grabbing her hand. “Stop!  We _can’t_ be here. We have to go back!”

Lydia froze when he grabbed her hand. Her face was set in grim determination.  

“We have to keep going.  We need to get to the lake.”

Stiles shook his head.  There was something wrong here.  “No, Lydia.  I don’t know what’s gotten into you, if it’s luring you, but I won’t let you go any nearer.”

“It’s a shame,” she whispered.

Stiles nose crinkled in confusion, “What is-“

White light poured out of Lydia’s hand and came straight at him, capturing his wrists together in a painfully tight binding. Panicking, Stiles pulled backwards, twisting his wrists apart.  To his complete surprise, the white binding evaporated, disappearing completely. He looked up at Lydia, her eyes narrowed in on his wrists.  “Lydia, what-“

She did it again, the power even brighter than it was the first time as it captured his wrists.  He didn’t panic this time, and simply pulled his arms apart. The magic disappeared.

Lydia began to breathe deeply, annoyance clear on her face.  “So be it,” she said, her entire body glowing white and then she shot all of her energy at Stiles.

Reflexively, Stiles through his arms up in front of him, but it didn’t matter.  He felt the power hit us body and left him gasping for breath, but beyond that, he was fine. Again, there was no power to be seen.

Lydia’s face was set in fury.  Stiles expected another magical attack, as she made his way towards him, but instead she raised her hand back and slapped him hard.

Stiles hissed, as his face swung to the right. He brought his arm up for comfort, but Lydia grabbed it, kicked him against the chest, and forced him on the ground. Stiles wasn’t sure what was happening to him anymore, but he felt Lydia grab his other hand and cool metal sliding against his wrists, and then he was pulled forward until he was in upright position. 

“Magic might not harm you Keeper of the Spark, but these are iron cuffs.  You aren’t getting out of these,” she hissed before she started pulling him towards the lake. 

Stiles followed as his mind spun. “What did you call me?” He managed to get out. The power of the lake started to overwhelm him, pulling him towards it.  He didn’t like it one bit.  “Lydia!” he said shrilly.  “We have to stop!” He tried to struggle and go back, but the combination of Lydia and the lake was too strong.

 

Lydia could hear Stiles try to fight the lake from behind her, his breathing heavy and uneven, but she ignored it. His pull against her slackened, as they got closer.  She pulled him right up to where there were six different flowers in perfect circle, right against the lake.  She carefully stepped forward, centering herself in the middle of the circle, her dress covering them. She let go of Stiles’ cuffs, and he fell, gasping to the ground. 

She turned to look at him one last time before she set the spell in motion.  She knew it would transfer the Spark to her, but she wasn’t sure what would happen to his body. If he would remain unharmed or even survive.  “So be it,” she whispered. And then she began.

* * *

She let the power of the lake flow through her as she began to chant.  Her breath quickened as she felt the surge of energy through her.  She bent down to the water and released a vital of her on blood. Then, she brought her hands together to create a cup.  She dipped them into the lake, and brought the water up to her mouth to drink, careful to never stop chanting. Her body trembled with the exchange, and Lydia felt like she could fly.  She carefully stood up, and closed her eyes, letting the power take over her and manifest in her hands. On their own accord, her hand sat on one another, harnessing the energy into a white orb.   Her hands grew apart as it got bigger and bigger.

 

Stiles knelt on the ground, unable to move, but that was the least of his concerns.  He couldn’t remember how to breathe, his vision started to get blurry.   The last thing he saw was an enormous ball of blinding light before he closed his eyes, giving way to unconsciousness. 

 

 


	2. Part Two

_Purple shined brightly against the dark shelter of the trees.  Gloved hands delved into the earth, following the roots of the Nemeton as deep as the hands could go.  The magic infused with the roots, intertwining before it spread. The hands stayed there for a few minutes before disengaging from the tree and coming to the surface. The roots below the soil continued to glow purple. The figure was satisfied and carefully used the soil to cover the roots back up so no one would see._

__

The smart thing might have been to figure out what Morrell, Eris’ Emissary, meant before he left the shrine, but Derek didn’t like the idea of waiting for his brain to catch up to the meaning. He felt like they were short on time, and he had no plans on wasting it.  Instead, he packed up his things and started traveling towards the heart of the kingdom.  The middle wouldn’t be a bad place to be if he had to go somewhere else, and Derek didn’t think the Spark was living near the Dark Forest or the Shrine of Eris.

Derek continued to ponder Morrell’s riddle.

_Look for where two dwellings meet with its own nursery in-between. There, colors bloom from the earth, which are sought by those under the protection of Argent seek to exchange for goods._

There were small parts that made sense to him. Two dwelling must mean two buildings, probably homes of some sort.  He wasn’t sure what the nursery part meant.  He kept thinking of babies.  Under the protection of Argent must have meant they were part of the Argent kingdom, citizens that swore they’re allegiance to the family as long as they protected them in return. But everything else meant nothing to Derek.  It all seemed too vague to actually be able to find someone. Derek groaned in frustration.

He struggled on.  The Castle’s city wasn’t even but half a day away.  The lands on the way were either uninhabited or used for farming. He was traveling just off the road and shifted, but started to get tired.  He reverted back to his human facial appearance, hoping to find someone kind enough to offer some cold water; he was almost out.

The first person he came across was a young girl selling bright colored flowers.  She called out to him, offering him a daisy.  He smiled but refused.  He didn’t have anything to do with flowers.  Her face fell and she dropped the daisy back on her cart. 

“I know they’re not that beautiful,” she said sadly. “They’re nothing compared the Garden of the Stilinski’s.”

“The who?” Derek asked blankly, digging into his bag for another trinket.  He didn’t want to leave the girl looking so disheartened. 

The girl looked up at him in shock. “The Stilinski’s.   The ones that produce the most gorgeous flowers anyone’s ever seen?  It’s legendary.  My mom thinks there’s something magical about the soil they live on.  She says the garden was just as well known before she was born.” She sighed wistfully down at her floras before she continued, “Their flowers are always the most vibrant colors, it might be true.  It’s why we don’t sell in market anymore.  No one wants to buy ours compared to theirs.”

Derek paused from pulling out a small wood craving of a wolf.  His thoughts started linking things together.  He looked down at the wolf that Isaac had made it, which he was about to exchange for flowers. Flowers that bloom. He tried to keep calm, as not to startle the girl.  He still needed information.

He presented the wolf to the girl and her eyes lit up.

“Oh,” she said.  “That’s very different.”  Derek watched as she examined it.  “It’s very well made.  Worth more than I can give you.”

Derek shook his head. “You’ve already given me something. All I ask is for a dozen lilies and a few more answers.” 

She scrutinized him and put the wolf down on her cart. “First what are your questions?” 

“The Stilinski’s.  Is there a man in the family?”  A young face with beauty marks flashed in his mind. “A young man.”

She nodded.  “Stiles has just become a man.  He’s the only son in the family.”

That was good, Derek thought.  It matched up with what he knew or thought he knew.

“Do you know where their garden is?”

The girl hesitated, not sure if she should trust him. Derek decided to change his question. “Do you know if it’s between two dwellings?  Two buildings?”  

She nodded slowly.  “Between the Stilinski’s cottage and the McCall’s. The McCall’s cottage is newer.”

Derek’s heart sped up, it sounded like he was so close. “If you don’t want to tell me where their home is, can you tell me where to find Stiles?  It’s urgent.”

Derek held his breath as she waited for her to answer. She took her time, shifting back and forth on her feet as she considered her options. 

“They live right at the outskirts of the city. The closest to the Eastern Woods.”

Derek exhaled in relief.  “Thank you,” he said with feeling. 

The girl nodded and took the wolf into her hands, placing it in her apron.  In exchange, she picked out her best lilies and handed them to him.  Derek smiled at her.  The best garden in the kingdom or not, they were lovely.  “Thank you,” he said again and gave her a smile before continuing towards the city. 

* * *

 Derek tried to fight down the hope that surged within him when two cottages with a garden in between came into view. He felt like his heart was going to burst when he saw the back of a young male in the garden with dark hair. He was going to complete the quest and save his people. 

Once he got to the garden, he realized he didn’t know how to continue.  Did he ask for Stiles to come with him or just take him?  As he hesitated, the man turned around.  Derek frowned at him.  He was young with dark hair, but he was tan and didn’t have any of the beauty marks that stood out in his mind.  “Stiles?” he asked.

The man shook his head, and Derek’s stomach dropped. It took him a moment to realize the man looked just as upset as he felt. 

“He never came home last night,” the man said. “I don’t know where he is. I’m worried.” 

“Where did he go?” Derek asked immediately. The fact that both were strangers did not occur to either one of them, as they were both too concerned with Stiles’ disappearance. 

“To the woods, with Lydia. They wanted to find nixies,” he explained, pushing his floppy hair out of his eyes.  Derek’s eyes went wide. 

“Nixies?” He asked, incredulously. “Are they out of their mind? Those things are dangerous. They live to lure people to their deaths. It’s how they feed!”

The man half shrugged, obviously feeling guilty about the ordeal.   “Stiles likes mythical creatures, and they generally like him.  At least, they never fatally wound him.” 

Derek inhales sharply.  It was idiotic and stupid.  The Spark was going to get himself killed before Derek even found him.

The man looked at Derek like he was seeing him for the first time.  “You have to help me find him.  Please.”

Derek nodded.  It’s not like he had much of a choice after all.  “Alright.”

* * *

 

The young man who is not the Spark was called Scott, and perfectly ordinary as far as Derek can tell. Derek had demanded that Scott bring something that Stiles wears a lot.  Scott had looked at him puzzled, but left and returned with a dirty shirt. Derek had shifted, and breathed the scent in hopes of following it. Scott had stepped backwards with wide eyes.  Derek had smelt his fear and had heard his heart pounding anxiously.  Scott asked Derek which way before he had bounded off into the forest, his fear forgotten for his friend’s life. 

Derek had caught up to him and forced him to slow his pace; tracking was not always an easy skill; although Stiles and his companion had left clear footmarks in the ground. 

For the fourth time, Derek put his hand on Scott’s shoulder and forced Scott behind him.  Scott kept getting more and more worried until he almost started running, racing to get through the forest to find Stiles, but Derek wasn’t having any of that. He pulled Scott back without a word, keeping his senses tuned to the woods around him. It didn’t take long before Scott started talking, demanding Derek to go faster and that his friend’s life was on the line.  Derek ignored him, until Scott grabbed a hold of Derek’s sleeve, causing him to lose focus on the scent. 

Derek whipped around and growled.  Loudly.  “You asked for my help,” he said between his fangs, “and you’re getting it. If you don’t want to get off course and spend more time trying to find it again, you will let me continue and you will be _quiet_.” 

Scott opened and closed his mouth a few times, like he was going to argue, but eventually he nodded and took a step away from Derek. Derek nodded and took another deep breath of the old shirt, honing in on the scent. 

It was funny, Derek thought as he tracked between some trees, the shirt was gross and very sweaty, so it should smell like something awful. Part of the scent was, except Derek contributed it to more of the stale scent of sweat, dry and crusted, than the original scent.  The original scent made something crawl under Derek’s skin.  It felt familiar, the way it tickled his nose, but for no good reason.  There parts of it that Derek recognized like apples, a little bit of honey, and a floral smell, but there was something else that was stronger and all Derek could do was continue to breath in as much of it as he could. 

They were reaching the end of the woods when Derek realized the area was eerily silent.  There were no animals anywhere near them or any wind, but the scent was stronger. Fresher.

Derek turned to Scott.  “Have you been this far before?  Has Stiles?”

Scott shook his head.  “No.  We never bothered because the – oh.”   The look of horror dawned on Scott’s face. 

“Because of what?” Derek growled at him, impatiently.

“Have we been traveling north?”  He asked in a small voice.

Derek raised his eyebrows; it was unbelievable that he didn’t know that.  “Yes.”

“Lake of Afli,” he whispered. 

The Lake of Afli belonged to the same type of stories that the Spark had when he was a kid, but Derek couldn’t remember any details.

“Stay alert,” he grumbled at Scott and kept going.

Derek had to pull Scott back behind him three more times before they reached the lake.  They both stopped in shock. 

The lake wasn’t much of a lake any longer but an empty basin.   There wasn’t a drop of water in sight. Black scorch marks about 30 feet in diameter laid claim on the ground by the lake.  The grass around it was wilted, and Derek looked up to notice that the trees had lost most of their leaves. 

As Derek was looking upwards, Scott gave a chocked cry of _Stiles_ and went rushing towards the lake.   Derek tried to grab him, but just missed Scott’s body as he rushed past him.  Worried about any leftover residue from whatever did this, Derek hurried after Scott, trying to protect him from his recklessness. 

Scott collapsed on his knees in the center of the scorch mark circle, and Derek came up behind him.  Derek couldn’t feel any magic or danger around them. He eyed the empty lake and wondered what could have done such a thing. 

Derek jerked his head to the right, and strained his ears. He could hear yelling and lots of it.

“Scott,” he said, tensely, “There are people to our right.”

Scott snapped his head up.  “Stiles?”

“I don’t know.” 

They looked at one another and then they both took off running towards the voices, Derek leading the way. 

 

Kira shivered and tried to shake the feeling off for not the first time that week.  Isaac raised an eyebrow at her.  

“Don’t look at me like that,” she explained. “Something feels off, and I don’t like it.”

The joking manner slides off his face. “What does it feel like?”

Kira puts her hand out, letting it feel the air around them. Energy prickles across her skin, tickling her down to her core.  She can feel the lightning crackling, wanting to explode.  She took a deep breath, put her hand underneath her tunic and refocused her control. 

After she regained stability, she turned to Isaac. “Like the calm before the storm.”

“That doesn’t sound ominous,” Isaac muttered as he started walking again. 

“You feel it too,” Kira accused him.  “Or else you wouldn’t have insisted on checking on the Nemeton.” 

“Something’s _been_ wrong,” he reminded Kira. 

“But this is different.” 

Isaac shrugged.  Kira sighed and tried to put her thoughts and sensations into words.

“It makes me jumpy like I just need one good excuse to let the lightning fly out into the sky.  But at the same,” she paused, struggling for words.  “It’s not right.  It doesn’t want to mix with me.  It’s similar but intrusive at the same time.  Just different enough to make my hair stand up on my arms.”

“And you have no clue to why?” Isaac asked, looking at her.

Kira shook her head and they approached the Shrine of Elatha. They both quickly bent and prayed to the god before they did anything else. 

“What do you think you’ll find?  Why here?” Kira asked Isaac after they finished. She watched as Isaac put his palm down on the trunk, caressing it as if he was searching for answers. After a few minutes, he didn’t answer, so Kira decided to look around herself. 

She had almost gotten to the opposite side of the Nemeton when Isaac finally spoke. 

“Faith, I think,” he said, looking sheepish. “I just didn’t want to come all the way out here by myself.” 

Kira crossed her arms.  “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“It was cowardly,” he muttered. 

“No,” Kira debated.   “It was smart.  Next time just ask.”

Isaac nodded and Kira continued around the tree only to stop five steps later. 

“Isaac?” She asked, her eyes wide. “What is that?”

Isaac frowned and hurried over to her. “That can’t be good,” he breathed out.

They both stood and looked at the black slimy substance that was running along one of the Nemeton’s roots, bubbling where it met the soil. 

 

 Derek and Scott rushed through the woods, the voices getting louder and louder.  They were loud enough that even Scott could hear them clearly with his human ears. There were two voices, Derek realized; one male and one female, both riled up and dripping with anger. Anger and passion often led to violence and rash decisions.  Derek bared his teeth and lengthened his claws, ready to attack.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scott pull a small knife out from his belt.  If he had time to think about it, Derek would’ve been surprised, but at the time his only thought was smart. 

Their feet pounded loudly beneath them and they ran past a dense set of trees to find _three_ figures and not just two. 

The woman and the man that were arguing or yelling didn’t look like they were going to start throwing punches.  The woman actually had her arms crossed, and the man was pacing back and forth.  The third person was smiling and looked like he was trying to hold back laughter as he watched them.

Derek slowed to a walk, wondering what the hell was going on.

 

“Do you think I want this?” Lydia was saying when Stiles saw Scott and another man, _if_ that was a man rush towards them. 

“Stiles!” Scott called out to him.  Stiles tried to drop away from the argument with Lydia and block out his mind, but it wasn’t working very well.  Lydia’s deep feeling of disapproval at their guests and annoyed complaints kept flying through his head. 

“Hey, buddy!” he responded and then he saw the knife flash against the sun.  “Whoa, Scott. Slow down.  Why don’t we put that away?” 

Scott looked at him blankly before his eyes followed Stiles’ to his blade.  “Oh, right. Sorry,” he apologized and put it away.

Stiles could breathe easily again.  Stiles might be the one to fall on his knees, but Scott didn’t have any proper training with a blade of any kind. He had more of a chance of accidently hurting himself or Stiles before he actually caused purposeful harm.

_Reassuring_ rang out loud and clear in his head, and he turned to glare at Lydia.

“Stiles, what happened?” Scott asked him. “I was so worried. You never came back, and Jackson was at the market, but hadn’t seen Lydia.  Derek helped me find you-“

Stiles’ attention drifted to the manthat could only be Derek.  His build was wide and strong.  His cowl was barely large enough to cover his shoulders and his shirt was tight against his chest, making muscle definition visible.  It took Lydia echoing his pleased observations to tear his eyes away from his body.  Instead, Stiles took note of the long claws, sharp and poised to use and his teeth jutting out beyond his lips.  His face looked contorted with his forehead jutting out more than most human’s. 

But his eyes weren’t human-like either. They glowed bright blue and stared right back at Stiles while he looked at him.  Then, Derek blinked and his blue eyes were gone.  Instead, soft green and grey spattered eyes stared back at him.  Stiles couldn’t decide what he thought was prettier. 

He could feel Lydia roll her eyes at him. _If you had half of a brain, you would notice what else changed besides his eye color._

Stiles nearly gasped at the man standing in front of him. The claws, teeth, and animalistic face had shifted to a more human one, and it was beautiful. His cheekbones were high and strong and his nose noble.  Stiles admired his thick eyebrows and equally thick beard.  He wondered what it would feel like to pet. 

_That’s not the only thing I’d want to pet_. 

Stiles ground his teeth in annoyance, although he couldn’t help but agree. 

“I thought you had _died_!” Scott said finishing when Stiles finally refocused his attention on him.

“Don’t blame me.  I didn’t have anything to do with this.  This was all her,” he said, pointing behind her. 

_If you were smart you wouldn’t have agreed to find nixies with me.  It was an idiotic idea in the first place._

Stiles turned and glared at her. 

“Lydia?”  Scott asked. “What did she do?”

_I DON’T KNOW_ Stiles thought loudly.  _SHE HASN’T TOLD ME_

“Will you stop,” Lydia ground out.  “You’re loud enough without yelling.”

“Someone explain,” rumbled out from behind Stiles. He could only assume it was Derek. 

“I messed up the ritual and now we can hear one another’s thoughts,” she said and then turned to Danny, a druid like Lydia, whom she had called after they had regained consciousness from the ritual’s explosion.  He had arrived not too long ago and wasn’t very sympathetic.  “I asked you here for help.” 

Danny looked from Lydia to Stiles.  “I don’t know what to tell you.  You surpassed me in the arts long ago.  I would have never have dreamed to try to harness the Lake of Afli’s power like you did.  Or try to steal the spark for my own.”

Derek growled, deep and low from behind Stiles. Actually growled. Stiles’ skin broke out in goosebumps, and he was only slightly concerned that had made him slightly scared and aroused.

Lydia pursed her lips together, and Stiles could feel the anger at herself rushing through him.  She wasn’t mad that she had done something stupid or close to impossible; she was mad that she was so close and made a mistake. 

_I need the Spark_ seared itself across Stiles’ mind when she directed her gaze on him.

“I don’t even know what the Spark is!” Stiles exclaimed at her.

Danny looked at him in surprise and then back at Lydia. Then back at Stiles. “You must be.  Or else there was no way you would’ve survived that ritual, even if it did backfire.” 

Stiles’ mouth gaped open.  “You were going to _kill_ me?”

Lydia’s stare was withering.  “What did you think was going to happen when I tied you up?”

“I don’t know, I was too worried about the lake! You were going to kill me?”

Lydia sighed.  “I don’t know if it would’ve killed you or not.  It wasn’t my intention, all I wanted was the Spark.”

“I don’t understand –“ 

_I know. It’s supposed to be that way.   It’s the will of Eris._

Stiles snapped his mouth shut and ground his teeth together. He wasn’t going to question Eris. She had always protected his family.

_Fine. Now what?_ He thought to Lydia.

She turned to Danny and he shrugged.  “I think there’s only one place you can go for help. Or ask.” 

Lydia huffed.  “Fine. We’re going to the Shrine of Eola.”

“Why?” Derek asked.  Stiles turned around to see him standing firmly with his legs apart and arms crossed.  “Why should we listen to you?”

Lydia narrowed her eyes.  “I don’t know who you are Wolf-Person, or why you are here. You have a god you turn to and so do I. I got this far because of wisdom, I’ll get out of it that way.”  She turned her attention to Stiles.  “I don’t want to hear him in my head forever.”

_Same_ he replied to her.  He glanced over to Derek once more.  _Why is he here?_

Stiles felt confusion and small information about the Wolf-People entered his mind.  They were Children of Elatha, and she thought they were tied to the Spark.

_I’m not entirely sure._

Stiles wanted to trust him, but he had already made a mistake in trusting Lydia.  The only reason he trusted her now was he could hear every thought in her head. He knew she wasn’t lying. He questioned Derek’s motives.

“Fine.  We’re coming with,” Derek said resolutely.  Scott nodded beside him. 

If Scott trusted him, than he couldn’t be too bad, Stiles thought. 

_More muscle isn’t bad to have either.  Or something to look at_.

He hated that she had a point. 

Derek wasn’t sure if Elatha had intervened or not, but he was extremely thankful that the Shrine of Eola was in the direction of the Dark Forest.  If things went well, like having the Spark in one piece and unharmed, then they would be able to reach the Nemeton in hours.  It was just going to take a couple of days to get to the Shrine first.

In theory, Derek might have been able to use Stiles and his Spark as is, but there was a large chance that whatever Lydia did would mess up what was needed for the ritual; for the sacrifice.  And considering Stiles and Lydia were intertwined, he wouldn’t be able to convince Stiles to go to the Dark Forest first. He might be able to kidnap him, but it felt like an unnecessary measure.  He knew Scott wouldn’t be able to take him, but he was weary of Lydia. It was obvious that she had harnessed tremendous amount of power in order to mess up her and Stiles’ head.

When they first started off, Derek had tried to lead the group, but Lydia had sent him a withering stare. 

“She grew up there and travels a lot. She knows where she’s going,” Stiles had said softly. 

Derek had relented and let her lead.  Stiles and Scott had followed, and Derek had brought up the rear.

They’ve been walking for a while now, and Derek sighed as he watched Stiles and Lydia grumble back and forth.  Part of him was curious about the words exchanged, especially the words spoken by the Spark.  Derek debated on shifting to hear them clearer, but he refrained. It was rude to eavesdrop. He took the chance to watch the Spark, getting good glances of his face when he was turned in profile to speak to either Scott or Lydia. 

Derek remembered the faces that appeared to him when he was looking for the Spark.  He even recalled part of the dream he had forgotten with the Spark standing toe to toe with him. That representation of the Spark was accurate and handsome.  Tall, lean body with deep brown hair; warm eyes and intriguing birthmarks, but it didn’t hold a candle to the real thing. 

Derek felt pressured to contain the surge of attraction he felt to Stiles.  The Spark wasn’t just handsome, but extraordinarily beautiful.  The body was strong, but always moving and full of motion that Derek couldn’t help but keep track of.  His hair was sticking up in multiple directions due to how his long fingers would rifle through it. His eyes were of a warm brown, but had specks of gold flickered through them, lighting them up. And the birthmarks, well. Derek just wanted to trace them.  Or lick him, but Derek clamped down on that thought before it went too far.

Derek tuned out the words being exchanged between the friends as he continued gazing at Stiles, finding his upturned nose adorable and his lips unfairly pink, so he didn’t even realize that they were talking about him until Stiles slowed down to keep pace with him and then spoke to him directly.

“Why did you agree to help us?  I know Scott’s puppy dog face can convince a thief to give Scott his shoes, but you’re still helping us.  Then, I thought maybe Eris had something to do with it,” Stiles said and glanced at Lydia, “but Lydia says that the Wolf-People are solely of Elatha.” 

It wasn’t rare for people to know that the Wolf-People were Children of Elatha, and he gifted them his power, but Derek had a feeling Lydia might know more than most; she knew about the Spark, after all.

“Perhaps Eris did send me to help,” he told Stiles. “Her shrine was the last stop I made before Scott. Her emissary was the one that lead me to your home.” 

Stiles narrowed his but it wasn’t directed at Derek. “I’m surprised that Morrell 

“High Priestess Morrell,” Scott interrupted.

“Or Emissary Morrell,” Lydia added. 

“Uh huh.” Stiles continued on, unfazed. “That she knows where my house even _is_. My mom refuses to go to the shrine, and I think Morrell’s half of the reason why.”

“And don’t!”  Stiles snapped quickly as Lydia turns her head to say something. “I don’t know anything about the Spark and I’m sick of hearing about it.”  His forehead wrinkled in concentration and he pointed to his forehead. “Hearing about it,” he said loudly.

Derek could see Lydia’s posture tense and she brought her arms forward to cross them, but she continued walking, and Stiles’ face soon relaxed.  He must have won that round. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Derek told Stiles, “She didn’t want to help me.  She said I had enough help already, but Eris spoke to her.  Even then, the help she gave was mostly a riddle more than anything else.”

Lydia had turned around again, looking at Derek with her eyebrows raised. She made quick eye contact with Stiles before turning around again. 

“Honestly, I’m not surprised,” Stiles grumbled and then tripped over a root.  Derek acted quickly and grabbed his forearm then pulled it back towards him, and Stiles fell hard against Derek’s chest. 

Stiles looked up at Derek in surprise, his mouth fallen open into an O-shape.  Derek stood still, almost afraid to spook him.  He was even more captivating up close and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Stiles’ gaping mouth.

Lydia startled them out of their trance. “My, my, just as firm as he looks, hmmm Stiles?  Maybe I should get a feel,” She said smirking at them.  Scott’s eyes went wide and decisively continued walking forward. Stiles blushed and stumbled out of Derek’s grasp, and Derek let him.

They continued walking and Derek tried to keep back the small smile, but it was hard to do if Stiles was thinking positive things about his body.  He glanced over to the Spark who was glancing over at him.  Stiles looked away quickly and his blush deepened.  Derek smile was not small any longer. 

“Um, Lydia says a lot of things,” Stiles says after a few minutes, resolutely looking at the floor. “Lots of things about the Spark and my family and Eris, but yeah, I don’t really follow it, and trying to do it through the trillion different myths and facts that are stored in her head aren’t going to making any damn sense, so I’m not even going to try. But Morrell, she’s real big on balance. It’s probably why she’s an Emissary and stuff, but it’s probably the only reason she helped. If Eris hadn’t reached out to her, she would’ve left you high and dry.  And she thinks, well it’s mostly personal stuff that don’t really relate, I guess,” Stiles rambled nervously, his fingers tugging through his hair again.

Derek has an urge to pry Stiles fingers out of his hair and clamp them in his own hand.  He grips the edge of his belt instead.  “I got that feel from her,” Derek responded.

Stiles nodded absentmindedly, and then, with a sharp turn to his head, gives Derek a calculating look. “Why did you need Eris’ help and why did she send you to my home?” 

Derek’s smile disappeared as he remembers the reasons why he’s there.  “I don’t think you’ll like the answer,” he replied. 

Stiles’ face is serious as he tilted his head, challenging him.

Derek sighed and ran his hand over his bead. “I’ve been sent to seek the Spark.”

Stiles face tensed in annoyance, and, once again, Lydia whipped her head around.  This time, her eyes were bright with suspicion as she frowned at him.  The tension rose in the air so even Scott was aware of it. He kept flicking his eyes back at the three of them.  Stiles glanced at Lydia and let out a loud huff.  “Explain,” he said. 

And Derek did.  He told Stiles all about how the Wolf-People have lived at the Dark Forest in safety for a very long time, but how their numbers were mysteriously dwindling.  Their kind were dying younger than usual and not as fertile.  He recognized Lydia’s statement about Elatha, and explained how they had turned to him for help.  As he explained, Stiles features softened, and Derek felt less like he was defending himself and more sharing his life, complaints and struggles with Stiles.

Derek adlibbed and told them that Elatha said the Spark could help them.  He had no intention of mentioning ritual and sacrifice.  This bright-eyed boy might not deserve that fate, but his people didn’t deserve extinction either. 

“I can’t imagine losing your family like that,” Stiles said as he looked up at Scott.  “Even if they’re not blood related.  They’re everything to me. “ 

Derek noticed that Lydia and Scott had moved further ahead, and neither one had looked back to join the conversation. He knew Lydia knew exactly what was going on, she was _in_ Stiles’ head, but he appreciated the attempt at privacy.

“Have you lost anyone?  I mean, personally close to you?” Stiles implored.

Derek’s heart grew heavy.  He tries not to think about it.  There had only been screams and tears that night.  “My sister, Laura, had a miscarriage about a year ago,” He told Stiles quietly.  “We don’t typically lose children.  We don’t fall sick to mortal diseases.  When we’re born, our defense system is low and sometimes there are complications, but even then, deaths are rare.  A miscarriage is almost unheard of.” 

He felt Stiles move closer to him, the heat radiating off of him is intense, especially as their arms accidently brush as they walk.

“It was heartbreaking,” Derek continued, not even sure of why he was telling all this to a stranger, but Stiles face was open and sympathetic. Unsure of why, Derek felt like he could trust him.  “For Laura especially. I can still hear her sobs when I think about it, and I don’t think I’d ever heard her cry before that.” Derek pauses, gathering his emotions before he continues, hoping to be able to finish with a calm and level voice. “My mother didn’t take it much better.  She’s not only the alpha of our pack but of the village, and I don’t think she ever felt as powerless as she did in that moment.  It had been obvious we were in a decline, but that’s when my mom really started researching and trying to figure out what was going on. She stopped believing it was the nature’s course that day.” 

Stiles clasped his hand on Derek’s shoulder and they both stopped in their tracks.  Derek turned to look at him, hoping his eyes weren’t too watery.  Stiles squeezed his shoulder as he spoke. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I don’t know much about this Spark, but I want to help.”

Derek nodded, and Stiles stepped back looking determined. “We can walk a little faster,” he announced to the group.  “I don’t want to take the risk of this being permanent.” 

Stiles walked quickly to the front, leading the way. Derek followed, wondering why he believed him so easily. 

* * *

 

They traveled more quickly than Derek had hoped. It was also more enjoyable than he expected.  Unlike his travels after he left the Dark Forest, he’s not spending every moment worrying. Instead, his attention has all been on Stiles, and not just because he’s the Spark. 

Stiles seemed to be able to tell exactly when Derek’s thoughts began to wonder back to unsafe territory. To thoughts of his entire pack dying, to his mother’s stricken face, and Laura’s sobs; all the possible results if Derek fails.  As soon as Derek drifted off to that bubbly guilt and nerves, Stiles would break into a loud and entertaining story, using his whole body to tell it.  Scott would chip in every now and then, with a spare detail or reminiscing on how insane something was.  Lydia would roll her eyes on the incredulous parts, and murmur you don’t even believe that actually happened.  Scott would laugh and tell the correct, non-overstated version as Stiles glared at Lydia. 

Derek learned a lot about Stiles and Scott that way. Like how Stiles has a knack for mythical creatures and loves to study them, but Scott is the one that always wants to take them home.  That Stiles actually cares and see’s Scott like a brother and would protect him from anything, even an angry mama bear, that they still don’t know how they escaped from unscathed (Lydia murmured Spark, much to Stiles’ annoyance). Stiles is the voice of reason, which is funny to Derek because he seems impulsive and all over the place. Stiles knows how to manipulate and play the market to make the best sales, but says Scott’s the best sales person there is because he can just lay on his honest to god charm and no one can refuse to buy anything from him.  And he’s smart. Lydia grudgingly admitted to it, which made Stiles puff up proudly. 

He told Derek quietly that he never had any real training, just learned how to read from his mom, and goes through their small collection of books a lot.  He would love to get any actual academic training like Lydia has had.  In return, Derek told Stiles about the good memories of going up in the Dark Forest, the ones that made him smile.  Stiles asked a lot of questions about the culture and history of the Wolf-People, which caused Scott to elbow him in the gut and tell him he was being rude, but Derek didn’t mind.  They were ignorant, but not mean, just honestly curious. It felt good to speak freely of himself and not be judged.  

Derek shifted back and forth, letting Stiles see how his body realigned itself in its transformation.  When Derek went into his beta shift, Stiles stopped him. 

“How high on the rude scale would it be if I asked to touch?” Stiles asked, looking more nervous than ashamed for his question. Derek’s throat came dry. It wasn’t like it he hadn’t noticed the change in Stiles’ scent when he shifted, but he had refused to acknowledge it was the rush of blood from arousal.  He nodded and stopped walking, as he held his palms up to him.

Stiles traced a palm line before dragging his finger gently along the curve of his pointer finger and brushing over his claw, testing the sharpness of its point.  Stiles dragged his eyes up to Derek’s face, and ran over the new contours of his face that came with the shift.  His fingers gently carded through Derek’s hair, and he felt the sudden urge to purr, which was unacceptable.  He bit his tongue and tried not to melt against Stiles.  Lastly, Stiles traced Derek’s bottom lip, causing Derek to gulp nervously.  Stiles didn’t seem nervous, but the calmest Derek had yet to see him, like being near Derek and touching him settled something within him. 

Stiles ran his finger of the edge of Derek’s fangs, and Derek flicked his eyes down to where Stiles was wetting his lips. Stiles pressed firmly underneath Derek’s fangs, and Derek’s mouth opened.  Before he could follow through and suck Stiles’ finger into his mouth, Lydia turned around. 

Derek barely registered her next words as he was so focused in on Stiles.  “Now, this is quiet the picture,” she said under her breath. 

Stiles jumped back like he had been burned, his eyes wide as he looked at Lydia who just smirked. 

“I guess you’re not sunshine and innocence,” her eyes moved to Derek.  “Lucky you.” With that she sauntered forehead, Scott following rapidly, his eyes wide.  Stiles was a dark shade of red, and wouldn’t look Derek in the eyes.

“I, uh, sorry for-“ he glanced at Lydia and his cheeks darkened even more. 

Derek took a shaky breath before he put himself, shaking off any other feeling.  “Don’t be,” he croaked out. 

“Really?” Stiles asked in disbelief.

Derek nodded.  “It’s Lydia’s fault she’s in your head anyways.” 

“But then you don’t mind if I-“ Stiles trailed off as his embarrassment started to be replaced by a mischievous look. Derek couldn’t help but think that it would only cause trouble. 

“No, I really don’t,” Derek replied, his own face starting to heat up now. 

Stiles smirked.  “Good.  I don’t mind if you think about me like that either,”

Derek stopped and watched Stiles’ form as he strode forward.  It was going to be hard not to think about Stiles like that. 

* * *

 

Two days later, they reached the shrine of Eola, and Derek had only gotten more attached to Stiles as they traveled. The walked most of the way to each other, and Derek became addicted to Stiles’ smiling face.  Scott kept looking at Derek like he wanted to say something to him, and Lydia actually did. 

“I don’t like that I can’t read you,” she had said glaring at him.  “You seem trustworthy, but logic tells me otherwise.” She had placed a surprisingly strong hand on his forearm.   “Don’t make me hurt you.” 

Derek had nodded while trying to drown in the guilt of how it must end.  Derek didn’t want to die, but if Lydia killed him after his people were safe, he wasn’t against it. Maybe he would even earn a chance to get Stiles to forgive him sooner in the afterlife.

They wearily approached the shrine late at night. Most of the other shrines are focused on spot outdoors.  Eola’s, on the other hand, was a building.  It was an enormous library with a statue of Eola dedicated for worshiping purposes. Lydia led them right past it to a stairway at the corner of the library, hidden by hanging drapes. Scott and Derek stopped, looking uncertainly at the staircase going down underneath the library. Lydia never even stopped to look back at them

“It will lead us right to the Head Priestess,” Stiles explained as he followed Lydia. 

 Derek ignored the feeling in his gut that the entrance was private and off-limits.  If anything was going to happen to Stiles, he wanted to be there. He and Scott slowly made their way down the dark stairway.  At the bottom, they went through a doorway that led to a long tunnel lit torches. They followed Lydia through the eighth archway on the left. 

The room through the archway was lit by a glowing orb at the center of the room, powered by someone’s magic.  The color was white, like Lydia’s.  The room was simple and obviously academic in purpose if the books and parchment on the desk was any indication. 

None of that received any of Derek’s attention. He was focused on those that occupied the room: six different Head Priestesses.  The goddesses of hunting, fire, lightning, sun, and wisdom stood tall before him.  Thankfully, their attention was not on him, but on Lydia.

The rest of the women did not look impressed by the interruption.  Only the Head Priestess of Ska, goddess of hunting, looked more interested than annoyed.

A woman with wrinkles gathered heavily around her eyes stepped forward. 

“Lydia, what is the meaning of this?” 

She bowed slightly in respect, “I apologize, Satomi.  I have come to seek your aid.  I overestimated my abilities and did not respect Eola as I should.”

Derek glanced over to Stiles to see what his reaction was to Lydia’s actions and voices in his head.  He looked uncomfortable, but nothing Lydia was doing was scaring him.  Derek turned back to the conversation. 

“What have you done, child?”

“I made a grave error.”

“Which, is?” Satomi prompted.

Derek caught Morrell’s eye and tried to direct her attention to Stiles by looking pointedly at Stiles.  If the stories were true, she would not want his identity known.

Either it worked, or she had worked it out herself, because Morrell stepped forward.  “Satomi, these are protected children under our respected goddesses,” she said as she referred to Lydia and Stiles, who stepped forward next to her. “Perhaps we should help provide guidance in one of the private chambers.”

Satomi’s glance went from Morrell to Lydia and then to Stiles before she nodded.  “You can wait until dawn, when we will break.”

Right as Derek started to internally groan at the wait, Morrell’s necklace started to glow, and she grit her teeth. “I apologize,” She said turning to the rest of the priestesses.   “There is an urgency to their mistake,” she glanced at Derek as she spoke, not Lydia.  Derek tried not to bristle with irritation.  “I must ask for you for you to wait, and I apologize for myself and for them for causing the interruption.” 

Jennifer, the Head Priestess of Mealla, smiled.   “Of course.” 

Her smile was sweet, but there was something to it that made Derek itch to shift. 

With a decisive nod, Satomi left the room with Morrell, Lydia, and Stiles trailing behind them.  Derek and Scott started to follow, but Morrell turned back with her eyebrows raised, and they immediately came to a stop. Without another glance, Morrell continued on her way, and left Derek and Scott with the rest of the Head Priestesses.

Derek looked back at the women nervously. The Head Priestess of Logia stepped forward, her short, red hair shining fiercely.  “What did you do?” 

Derek bit his tongue.  It wasn’t a casual question, but an accusation. Luckily, naive appearing Scott intervened.

“There was something to do with magic. And the lake, but you know I don’t really understand. . .”

Derek tuned him out as Scott tried to make an innocent explanation for what had happened.  Instead, he focused on the door and tried to make out Stiles’ heartbeat to assure himself everything was going to be fine.

 

**“** You did what?” Satomi demanded.  Morrell’s eyes narrowed and her necklace glowed slightly.  Lydia had to catch herself from taking a step back in intimidation. She might be ambitious, but she isn’t stupid.  The Head Priestess and Emissary could be deadly opponents, especially with the goddesses on their side.

She exhaled through her nose and began to explain. “There’s a danger growing out there. The rumors and whispers of different magical legends and theories have been growing stronger each day, and I didn’t spur them.  Someone else has been looking for the Keeper of the Spark, and I fear what happens when they get their hands onto it.”  Lydia pushed back Stiles’ objection in her head and corrected herself.  “Onto him.  I was able to find it- The Keeper of the Spark and lure him away fairly quickly and easily. Either he couldn’t stay there or –“ she paused, knowing this is where she was going to lose any empathy from Satomi. “I had to take it from him.  I was foolish enough to think it would be safer with me.”

Morrel raised her eyebrows.  “No, you were foolish enough to think you would be able to take it from him.  Or that he is unprotected. Eris looks over her child.”

“Like Elatha is looking out for the Wolf-People?” Lydia asked sharply.  “The danger has not just been in my home, but the Dark Forest.  It has just become apparent how much they’ve been suffering from it.”

Lydia ignored the jump in interest from Stiles as soon as she mentioned the Wolf-People.  It was obvious that he was smitten with the Knight, Derek.

“You speak of the grudge Maella has against Elatha,” Satomi said thoughtfully. 

“I speak of the grudge the Goddess of Lightning has against the Children of Elatha for stealing the allegiance of the kitsunes. There have been lightning storms hitting the Dark Forest for years.” 

“About five lives are lost each year, not to mention the damage to the forest.”  Morrell muttered under her breath. 

Satomi and Morrell traded thoughtful looks; they obviously knew more than Lydia did.  Lydia tried not to show her frustration on her face.  She was there for help and had not yet received it.

When Satomi’s eyes landed back on hers, Lydia asked, “Can you reverse it?  Neither of us wants to be stuck in one another’s head.”

Stiles snorted and Lydia turned her head to hit him with a glare.  So far, things have gone well, and she didn’t want him to spoil that for her. 

Stiles threw up his arms in defeat and crossed them, remaining silent again. 

“I cannot reverse it,” Satomi answered.

Lydia’s heart fell from her chest; she had not been prepared for that.  Next to her, Stiles made a squawking sound. 

Morrell stepped forward, her necklace growing bright once more. “But, I can with the help of Eris can.”

* * *

 

Lydia kept her eyes closed as she waited for the magic to be expelled out of her body.  She had never felt anything like that before. Even when she conducted the power of Afli through her body, it didn’t even come close to the power Morrell surged through her and Stiles.  It was pure and fluid, untainted by human touch and clumsiness.  Lydia shuddered as she realized that Eris must have conducted her own power through Morrell.  Perhaps she was pushing her luck, earning the attention of the gods were not always a positive thing. 

As her mind grew silent as she tried to relax, she was struck with _how_ silent it was.   There was no more quiet murmuring and rush of thoughts that she needed to drown out.  Stiles was no longer connected to her.  She opened her eyes.

Stiles was already sitting up, eyes wide open like he wasn’t affected by the slightest by the power that had just been doused over them. As Keeper of the Spark, he might not have been.  A piece of that magic is kept inside him.  When Stiles saw her open her eyes, he smirked. 

“Have a nice rest?” 

Lydia ignored him as she sat up. 

“Everything back in order?” Satomi asked as she looked over Lydia’s body. Lydia nodded, pleased to have some peace and quiet. 

“Good. Now, I understand that you have concerns, Lydia, and I am no longer _your_ priestess, but this won’t do.”

“You attempted to steal from Eris,” Morrell interrupted, bluntly.

Lydia pierced her lips together and tried to look unaffected. Looks like she was getting the lecture after all. 

Satomi cleared her throat and Morrell looked irritated but let her continue. “I know that you do not wish to spend your life locked up here in servitude, but you must respect the gods. I am surprised that things did not end as badly as it could have.”

Lydia nodded.  It was all-true and she had been foolish, but there was a reason Eris helped her. There was a reason she was here.

“If you weren’t tied to the Keeper of the Spark, you might be dead,” added Morrell.  It looked like she wanted Lydia’s death to be a reality.  Lydia’ ground her teeth together. 

“Um, excuse me?” Stiles said where he was hunched over on the bench. “Will someone explain to me the whole Spark and Keeper of the Spark business?  And why people keep referring like it’s _me?”_

Morrell sighed deeply and Satomi smiled, amused.  “I do not know if you are supposed to know, child.” Satomi answered, apologetic in her voice.

Lydia huffed.  “Eris sent a Knight of the Dark Forest to find him, as did Elatha. She has allowed me my life,” She relented with a nod to Morrell, “and I think it is for a reason tied to his fate. I don’t think it’s a secret she would want kept.”

“Careful,” Satomi hummed.  “Knowledge and deductions are useful, but they are not foolproof when it comes to the purposes of the gods.  It is better to ask and receive.”

“Your pupil is right,” Morrell admitted.  “Eris knows that the Spark cannot be hidden in this generation.”

“What does that even mean?” Stiles asked, throwing his hands up.

Satomi gestured to Morrell, but she shook her head.  “You know just as much as I, and I am not a story teller.”

“That’s for sure,” Stiles muttered.  Morrell’s lips pinched together, but she did not respond. 

“Now where to begin?” Satmoi murmured as she looked at Morrell, but she gave nothing away.  “If our friends in the Dark Forest are involved, perhaps we should start at the very beginning. You must remember; we get our emotions from the gods, and they make decisions out of jealousy and anger just like we do.” 

Stiles nodded, Lydia made sure to pay attention.  She wouldn’t be surprised if she learned something new.

* * *

 

“It is true what the stories say.  The Wolf-People are the Children of Elatha.  At the dawn of our time, and when the moon god was young, he had enjoyed the company of the nocturnal creatures of the Earth, but he missed the actions of the man who disappeared into their shelters too soon into the night.  One night, a young hunter named Deucalion prayed for help. He had become hunted by his prey the Caribou and lay bleeding at a foot of the massive Pedunculate Oak Tree. Elatha had agreed to aid him and his hunting party.  He provided him and his friends with the strength and abilities of a predator, the wolf. In order for Deucalion to live through his wounds, he accelerated his healing as well and pulled the strength from the tree.  In exchange for himself, as he worked, he aimed his moonlight onto Deucalion, making it apart of him. He would feel the pull of the moonlight within him, wishing to be part of the moon again.

As his gift came together, the leaves of the tree started falling to the ground, and then the branches, ominously falling around Deucalion.  When his gift was complete, there was a loud cracking noise. The trunk of the tree was on the ground, and Deucalion rose, his eyes burning red, his teeth pointed and sharp, and nails lengthened into claws.  His body stitched itself together, and he took inventory of his sources. He could see better in the dark than he could when he was human, and he could hear the terrified beating heart of the Caribou for the cracking of the tree.  He took off, falling on four legs as he chased after it, landing on its back and tearing its throat out with his teeth. 

The rest of his hunting party found they had transformed in a similar matter and forgot their bows and arrows as they hunted down the animals during the rest of the night, eating them raw. 

Over the years, they learned how to control themselves, and as they produced, they found their offspring carried their amazing abilities as well.  The families chose to dwell in the forest, one with their wolf-selves instead of near the villages and the towns where they were forced to conform.

Elatha got his wish. The hunting party and their children took to later and later hours and kept him company.  They relished the feel of the moon on their skin as it helped rejuvenate them.  They spent so many nights wide-awake during the full moons that it became a ritual that they would celebrate together, and give thanks to Elatha for their abilities. The Head Priest of the Ethala and Emissary to the Wolf-People would perform sacrifices to Elatha. They were made on the trunk of the cracked Penduculate Oak Tree, which was dubbed the Nemeton.

As you know, Eris is Elatha’s twin sister.  Although they live in two different skies; they share many things.  Elatha’s connection to his Wolf-People made his sister jealous. As the Goddess of the sun, she watched the humans every day.  She had her worshipers and priests, but she did not have a connection to them the way Elatha did with his children.  She yearned to have a place among the humans too. There was a particular family that she was always very fond of.   Every generation, a child devoted their life to Eris, and became a priestess. She loved watching them, because the family was almost always happy.  Even when sadness fell on their home, she watched as they found laughter in other things.  They were full of life, and Eris felt like they glowed with it like the sun. 

One early morn, while the mother and the father laid together, Eris channeled her essence into her beams of light as she was rising over the Earth.  The reds, pinks, and purples of daybreak lit up the parent’s room as the mother conceived.  The child had absorbed Eris’ essence and power.  When the child was born, she glowed just a bit more than the rest of the family, but they were used to that energy and think much of it.  They thanked Eris for the health of their baby girl at the base of their sunflowers.  Even with the Spark of Eris’ magic untapped, things came naturally and easily to the child. The wisdom of the sun poured through her veins, and helped her learn quickly.  She found she had a gift with plants, and their family became proud owners of a beautiful garden.  Their family never went hungry.  It wasn’t until her mother laid sick and dying, that the child tapped into her the sun’s power. The child stood beneath her tallest Sunflower and prayed to Eris, asking for Eris to heal her. Eris told her she had the power to do it within herself and showed her how to light her spark.  With love and passion the child reached out to her mother, bathing her with the spark and draining the sickness out of her. It was a miracle, and the village talked.  The child was soon claimed by the Kingdom of Argent to heal the royal persons. It didn’t take long before they learned to exploit her power and use it against their enemies. She could cause plants to wither and die and huge explosions that looked like the sun had exploded on Earth.

Eris watched saddened as the child was torn away to family and her gift was used for destruction. When the child grew and had a babe of her own, the spark passed to the babe.  From then on, Eris always kept a careful watch on the Keeper of the Spark to make sure it would stay hidden, especially from the wrong people.  Only in a dire crisis did Eris assist the Keeper into lighting its Spark, and even then she helped keep their abilities quiet.  The Spark became not much more than a rumor or a legend of someone with tremendous amount of power that would appear once every hundred years or so.

 

Stiles stared at Satomi; partially in shock, partially in disbelief and partially in – acceptance? “You’re saying that I am a decedent of that child?” Stiles said slowly. 

Satomi nodded.

“And I have insane amount of power that I don’t know how to access?”

She nodded again.

Stiles moved his mouth wordlessly, trying to explain how absurd that was, but there were small facts to the story that made too much sense. 

How he never got lost and always got along with other mythical creatures. How he could spend hours out in the sun and never turn red, despite his fair skin.

The garden; it had been in the family for generations. Even Stiles doesn’t know how old it is, and it’s always been credited as the best garden in the land.

His mom and how she used to make even prettier flowers than she does know. How she jokes she traded that skill for being a mother.  Meaning she would’ve been the Keeper of the Spark before he was born.

And the sunflowers. They always kept growing in the garden and rarely ever sold; their own personal shine to Eris.

He snapped his mouth shut, and then opened it again. “I guess that means I can help Derek.”

“Of course that’s the first thing you think of,” Lydia said with a roll of her eyes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you’re obviously so attracted to him that you’d do anything for him – or his body.”

“I-No,” Stiles sputtered, outraged.  “That’s not what I meant or why-“

“Children!“ Satomi interrupted.  Stiles and Lydia closed their mouths.  “You must be careful with who you trust, Stiles, especially once they know about your truth. It might be overbearing; as power often is.  Remember Eris is always looking out for you if you need her help.

Stiles ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. Even if it wasn’t _Derek_ asking who was a gorgeous specimen, as Lydia pointed out, and have kind eyes, and a heart set for healing – he would still help if he needed to.  Besides, he has always wanted to meet the Wolf-People.  Well, since he’s known they existed, that is. 

As Stiles sat lost in thought, Satomi turned to Lydia. “Careful, child. Do not stray from the path.”

Lydia looked up, her eyes bright.  “I’m trying to prevent those that are straying.”

“You can always ask for help, Satomi said softly. 

“Enough. We have left the other’s waiting long enough,” Morrell announced, turned and left the room.

Satomi sighed as she looked after her.  “She is correct.  Let us return and you can collect your friends.”

* * *

 

Stiles, Scott, Lydia, and Derek were offered a place to sleep for the night and the graciously accepted.  Before they left the next morning, they all presented gifts to Eola.

Stiles took a deep breath as they walked outside.  The air in the library was old and stale; nothing like the air that would flow through their windows at home.  Cautiously, he tried to reach out to his Spark; searching for something reminded him of the magic Morrell used last night. He wasn’t able to ignite or use anything, but the more he thought about it, the more he thought he could sense something deep inside him. 

“What’s next?”  Derek asked cautiously, interrupting Stiles self-exploration.

Stiles frowned at him.  “What do you mean?  I thought you needed my help?”

Derek nodded bashfully.  “I do, but I didn’t want to presume. . . I’m asking a lot from you.  Why would you want to help a complete stranger?”

Stiles’ stomach dropped a little at being called a stranger. He swallowed and tried to pass it off with bravo.  “Of course, I’m going to help; I said I would.  You- your family and your people deserve it.  If I can do anything I will.  And if you were a complete stranger I wouldn’t know anything about Laura and you wouldn’t know anything about my mom. 

Derek looked with a hesitant smile.  “So you’ll come?”

“Were you not just listening?” 

Derek’s feature’s relaxed.  “Thank you.”

“No problem.  I just want to go to Eris’ shrine before we go to the Dark Forest.  Maybe see if she can provide-“ Stiles’ voice faded away as he looked at Derek and Lydia’s faces.  Derek looked crestfallen, and Stiles was so annoyed because he had just made him smile.   Lydia had her eyebrows raised, as if she was wondering if he was serious.  “What?”  he asked.

“The shrine of Eris is on the other side of the country,” Lydia explained.

“Oh.”

“And we’re close to the borders of the Dark Forest already.”

“Oh,” Stiles repeated.  He looked at Derek. 

“It’s – fine.  I understand why you want to go to her.  It makes sense.” Derek said, not quiet looking Stiles in the eyes.

Stiles traded a look with Scott.  He needed some other option.

“Are there any sunflowers nearby?”  Scott asked. 

“Yes!” Stiles shouted. “Sunflowers!  I can pray to her there!”

Lydia looked grudgingly impressed by Scott and nodded. “There’s a patch not far from here.”

“Then let’s get going!” Stiles said, full of energy.  

* * *

 

Stiles leaft his group of friends once they’re in sight of the Sunflowers and head over to them himself.  Worshipping has always been private element, even when he used to do it with his parents; and this time, it meant more than Stiles ever thought it could.

He went through the ritual, carefully and precisely. As he knelt down in front of the tallest sunflower in the patch, he felt a rush of energy similar to the one when he was separated from Lydia; except it last longer and made him feel warm and happy on the inside.  He murmured his prayers and gave his thanks and blessing before asking for the strength and knowledge she could give him. 

The wind blew strongly through the sunflower patch, and Stiles heard the wind whispering in his ear; telling him exactly how to ignite his Spark.

He concentrated on those he loved; his parents, Scott, Melissa, and even Derek crossed his mind.  A fierce need to protect Derek surged through his body, and Stiles gasped as he could feel the Spark flow from the tips of fingers to the center of his chest.

 

Derek watched in horror as a mighty wind circled _only_ around the sunflower patch where Stiles was. He went to move forward, but Scott grabbed his arm. 

“Wait,” he said.  So, Derek tapped down his fear and waited. 

Then, Stiles began to glow, bright light emitting shot out of him and shown like the sun. 

Panicked, Derek started to move forward again, but Lydia stopped him with her magic. “Wait,” She instructed. Derek looked back at her like she was insane, but she was smiling.  Derek tried to force his heart to calm down as he waited for Stiles to come back to them; hopefully, unharmed. 

 

Stiles smiled as he walks back to his group, glad to know that he has some strength on his side, and a goddess looking out for them.  He waved to his group as he tried to rein his Spark in so he wasn’t glowing yellow.  He was only thirty feet away from them when he finally managed to tamper it down – and that’s when destruction struck. 

A figure in a black coat appeared at the edge of the Dark Forest and sent a blast of power at Stiles, knocking him off his feet in surprise.  He landed flat on his back, knocking the air out of him.  He tried to remember how to breathe and sits up cautiously.   He saw Derek and Scott running towards him; Derek shifted and his eyes glowing blue as he outpaces Scott. Stiles tried to gather up of his Spark and focus on the same things as before; but he’s too distracted by trying to remember how to breathe.  Luckily, Lydia shot her magic at the stranger, causing the ground beneath the magic user to shake.

Derek reached Stiles and huddled over him protectively. “Are you okay?” He asked, eyes filled with concern.  Stiles nodded, not distracted enough to really like how Derek’s face looked up close and personal. Derek brought his hand up and held it against Stile’s chest for a second before he turned around, squatting in front of him. 

Stiles couldn’t see much, just purple and white magic coloring the air as Lydia and the bad magic person attacked each other.  Then, a huge arc of purple shot around them, and tossed Lydia twenty feet in the air; right by Scott.  Scott helped her and Derek growled. 

There was a random lightning bolt, hitting just next to Derek and Stiles.  They both flinched away from it, and then a short surge of energy crackled and zapped Derek from in front of them.  Derek shuddered before he fell to his knees, and Stiles scrambled over to him. 

“Derek? Derek!” He yelled, trying to shake him awake; hoping he was alright. 

There was a low crackle, and it was human this time.  It came from the attacker. Stiles looked up just before a beam of purple hit him in the chest.  He fell backwards, and heard Lydia scream, “No!” before he lost consciousness.

 


	3. Part Three

_ _

 

 

_ _

_Breathing heavily, the figure in black raced through the Dark Forest.  The Spark was close – it either meant trouble or an even more satisfying ending. The figure sped up as it thought about what laid right out of reach – revenge._ __

Stiles blearily opened his eyes, and Derek’s concerned and wolf-shifted face came into view.

“Derek!” He tried to shout in relief, but he ended up having a coughing fit instead. 

“Stiles,” Derek breathed out in relief, and helped pull him into sitting position.

“Drink this,” Scott said as he handed Stiles a water skin, and he graciously took a sip. 

Once Stiles caught up on his breathing, and checked the rest of his body for injury, he dove straight into questions.  “What happened?  I thought you were – were,” Stiles stumbled as he looked at Derek.  Hurt and dead crossed his mind, but neither of those thing he wanted to say out loud.  “You had been struck by the evil magic person.”

“Durach, Stiles,” Lydia said coming up behind Scott.  “An evil _druid_ is called a durach.”

Stiles nodded.  That sounded familiar. “I knew that.”

“Of course you did,” she muttered.

“You were hit with magic,” Scott told him, trying to be helpful.

Stiles stared at him.  “I know _that_ , Scott. But what type of magic was it? What happened when it hit Derek?”

“I don’t know what you were hit with,” Lydia admitted, “but it hit you straight in the chest, and knocked you over.  Then you started to glow, and I think the Spark expelled the magic from your body.  It shot off randomly and hit one of the trees.”

Stiles looked over to where she was pointing.  One of the trees at the edge of the dark forest had a broken branch and charred wood.

“It’s a good thing that didn’t happen to you,” Scott added.

Stiles found his throat dry as he looked at the tree.  “Yeah, good thing.”  His eyes slide over to Derek and repeats.  “What happened when it hit Derek?”

He had a feeling Derek wasn’t going to tell him. 

“It was a small doze of lightning, thankfully,” Lydia explained.

“ _Thanksfully?_ ” Stiles hissed out in alarm.

“Just enough to knock him on his ass and reboot his powers. Not enough to kill him or stop his heart.”

Stiles heart raced as he thought about that possibility. “I thought – I thought you heal and stuff!”

“He does,” Lydia answered for him.  “But lightning or that level of energy is enough to cause their powers separate from their host.  It takes a few minutes for a Wolf-Person to reboot their system. And a lot can happen in three minutes.”

Stiles just stared at Derek. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?”  Derek said, ignoring the conversation and still looking over him, concerned.

“Am I alright?”  Stiles asked, incredulously?  “Are you-“

“I’m fine, Stiles.  I’m shifted and everything.”

Stiles hand reached up and traced over Derek’s more wolfish features.

“I’m fine,” Derek repeated.  “Are you?”

Stiles pulled his hand away and took a quick recount of his body. “I’m fine.  Just a little bruised up.  My side hurts a little,” Stiles explained as he stretched lightly and winced.

“Hmmm,” Derek murmured, and started investigating his side. It was a little odd and Stiles had no idea what Derek was doing – but he wasn’t going to stop it.

“You got a little bloody, too,” Scott said, rubbing at his forehead. Stiles frowned at him before reaching up and copying the gesture.  He could feel where the skin had torn, but there was no blood to be found.

“Thanks for cleaning it up for me, you know how much I hate blood.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” Scott looked pointedly down at Derek who just slipped his hand under Stiles’ shirt.   

“Uh, hey there, Derek,” Stiles said, flinching a little. “What are you doing?”

Derek looked right at him, his sea green eyes only inches away from Stiles’. Stiles gulped.

“Trust me.”

“I- Ido,” Stiles said, sputtered when Derek’s hand softly caressed the side of his ribs. 

“And you should,” Scott said with a smirk.  “He’s the one that bandaged you up.  He wouldn’t let either of us even touch you.

Stiles’ gaze went to Derek’s and was pleased to note that his cheeks had gotten rosy in color. 

“And why would –“ Stiles started to tease until the pain drained out of his side, leaving him feeling like a jelly mess. “Oh,” he groaned and sunk back to the ground.  It was only when he sunk down that he noticed Derek’s arm had black veins on them.

“What are you doing,” Stiles asked, cautiously bring his hand up to trace around them. 

“Trying to help,” Derek admitted.  Stiles looked at his face.  It was screwed up in concentration and pain. 

Stiles ran his thumb along one of his eyebrows, trying to smooth it out. To his satisfaction, Derek began to breathe easier. 

“By doing what?” Stiles prodded.

“Taking your pain,” Derek explained, his eyes still fixed on Stiles sore spot.

Stiles’ yanked Derek’s arm away from him – and Derek whined.

“Hey,” Stiles whispered, keeping Derek’s hand tight between his own. “I’m fine, I swear. You don’t need to do that. Okay?”  Derek’s eyes were transfixed on their hands. “Derek?”  Stiles asked again, pulling slightly.  Derek looked up and nodded shortly.  “Okay.”

“Great,” Lydia said drily.  “Now that we’ve got that settled, and Stiles is fine, we should get going. They’re only going to mean trouble for us.”

Derek and Stiles exchanged a glance and nodded.  Stiles allowed Derek to help him off the ground.

“Let’s go.”

 

_The sky got darker and darker and the figure urged it to hurry up.  Soon the Wolf-People would be out of their element.  It was time for the figure to set the field and play by their rules.  Looking up at the sky, the figure smirked.  A storm was a brewing._

Derek’s skin bristled, reacting to the energy in the air. It was not even past mid-day, but the sky was already turning dark as night.  Derek didn’t like the way the dark clouds covered up the sun, their ally, or how unnatural it felt.

There had been unnatural storms that hit the Dark Forest before, and they’re never good.  They always loose a couple trees and some of their most relied on resources, not to mention the tragedy that’s occurred when a lightning bolt has hit one of their own people, killing them instantly. 

The energy in the storms Derek has lived through felt like nothing compared to what was cycling in the air now.  Derek tried not to think on it too hard, but focused on Stiles’ breathing instead.   Thankfully, he had regular breathing and an even heartbeat.  Derek narrowed in on it, hoping it would balance his own nervous heart. 

And it worked – up until the sky went pitch dark and lightning zapped across the sky, multiple strikes lighting everything up in bright flashes. The next thing Derek knew, dozens of trees were on fire and burning quickly.  Smoke filled the air and sparks trickled down around them. And then, Derek heard a mix of screaming, growls, and howls.  His people were hurt and in danger. 

“Derek?” Stiles yelled out, his heart no longer steady.  He tripped on a rock in his panicked state, and Derek quickly caught him around his bicep.

“I’m right here,” Derek said, pulling him close to his body. It was hard to see through the flames and smoke even with his eyes; he can’t imagine what it would be like for a human.  He caught Lydia’s eye and she pulled Scott close to her and waved her arms. A harsh wind whipped around them, and Derek shielded Stiles’ body with his own. 

The fires had dwindled to little more than smoking kindling before Lydia stopped.  “Go,” she told him. “We’ll be right behind you. 

Derek caught Scott’s eye and passed him his short knife. “Be careful."

Scott took the knife cautiously, holding it wrong.  Derek fixed his grip.  “Careful,” he repeated. 

Scott nodded and looked at Stiles.  “You too.  Both of you,”

Stiles opened his mouth and then closed it.  He nodded.  “Protect him,” he told Lydia and then slipped his hand into Derek’s.  Derek immediately squeezed Stiles’ hand.

“Where do we need to go?”

Derek’s heart hammered when he realized what the next steps were – but their home was falling down around them; there was no time to second-guess his decision. “The Nemeton.  If we’re lucky, Deaton will meet us there.”

“And if we’re not?”

Derek closed his eyes tight for a moment.  “Then I’ll do it.”

“You know how?”

Derek swallowed.  “I know how.”

He was distracted by a scream that went into to the night. It sounded like Erica.

“How fast can you run?” 

Stiles shrugged.  “Not the fastest.”

Derek thought about it for half a second.  “Get on my back.  We’ll be faster than way.”

Stiles didn’t argue, but climbed onto Derek’s back, locking his arms around Derek’s neck and his legs around his chest.  Derek held onto his legs, trying to reassure himself and ran as fast as he could.  

* * *

 

 They found the Nemeton surrounded by people.  Wolf-People lay hurt all across the forest floor.  Derek tried not to concentrate on their faces. He didn’t want to know. He tried to focus on those that weren’t hurt, and were trying to help their wounded and hurry out of the area as fast as they could.  Their glazes kept stealing to the durach who was being kept busy by Kira.  Kira’s sword was out and she kept sending her own beams of lightning at the durach.  It was a strange blessing, but the neither one of their power was affecting the other.  Derek realized both of them must be tied to their magic by lightning. 

Stiles climbed off his back, and grabbed Derek’s face with both hands. “Derek!” He yelled. “Look at me!’  Derek did, he focused on Stiles bright warm eyes, which were wide-eyed with urgency. 

“Good, Derek.”  Stiles said. “Is that the Nemeton?” His eyes flickered to the large tree stump.  Derek nodded, his breath hitching when he thought about what came next. 

Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand, and Derek let Stiles pull them to the Nemeton. His hand tightened as they got closer and closer to it.  The reality of killing Stiles, slashing his throat open with his claws was becoming too real, too fast.  There was death and horror all around him, and he could no longer think of it as a sacrifice.

“Derek,” Stiles yelled over the sounds of the fight.  “What do you need me to do?  Do you need me on it?”

Derek nodded, and Stiles climbed up, leaning back on his knees, waiting for Derek. 

Derek moved forward numbly, almost falling at the Nemeton to get closer to Stiles. He didn’t think he could do this. His eyes glanced around him in panic. Kira was limping, but Lydia rushed forward to help her.  Scott had just arrived, the knife in his hand like Derek showed him.  Derek started to recognize the bodies around him. Sami, the eight year old girl; Erica’s older sister. And then his eyes land on a very familiar body with the dark brown hair and strong eyebrows; a Hale trait. 

Derek averted his eyes quickly, not wanting Laura’s dead body burned into his memory, but it’s already too late.  The misery and grief sink in quickly, and Derek looks at Stiles knelt down before him. 

“I’m so sorry,” Derek whispered through his tears.  “I’m sorry.”

Stile’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. 

“I have to safe them,” Derek tried to explain, but he’s not sure if he’s making any sense.  “I can’t let them die, and I didn’t think.  I didn’t want to think of you as a person, not when you were being sent for Elatha.” Stiles must have realized it then, because his face drains of all color.  “But you’re too perfect not too,” Derek continued. 

“It’s okay, Derek,” Stiles said, voice small, but understanding.

It made Derek cry even harder.  “You don’t deserve to die,” he choked out.  “I don’t want you to die.  Life is going to be so empty without you.”

Stiles gave him a watery smile before he whispered.  “I understand, Derek.  It’s okay,” and then he leaned forward and grabbed Derek’s shirt and pulled Derek towards him. 

Derek felt Stiles’ hot lips upon his own, and fervently kissed Stiles back; desperately trying to get the most out of their one and final kiss.

 

 

Heat rushed through Stiles’ body as he kissed Derek.  He had never felt such a strong feeling before. It was more than just lust and desire. He didn’t’ hold back a moan as they deepened the kiss and Stiles’ thread his fingers through Derek’s hair, pulling him even closer.  The heat and pleasure only deepened, and even with is eyes closed he could see a warm, bright light around him. 

Eris’ words from earlier echoed within him.  “Unleash your Spark, Child.  Use your love and life.  Your love _for_ life.”

Stiles’ heartbeat tripled for a second as he broke through the barrier within himself.  He loved his life, but he loved Derek more.  He wanted Derek and his people to live more than anything else. 

Gasping, Stiles pulled back, his fingers still twisted around Derek’s hair.

“Trust me,” he whispered into Derek’s ear.  Derek opened his eyes in shock, and nodded mutely. Stiles ran his hand down Derek’s body to his hand and he clenched it tightly, trying to anchor his Spark to Derek and that feeling. 

Stiles took a moment to take in his surroundings. A lot had changed in a few minutes. The girl with the sword was bleeding profusely and was trying to protect Lydia, who was knocked out on the ground.  Scott was beside her, trying to wake her up.  The durach’s cloak was almost hanging in pieces around its body; just barely staying together, but it was standing. 

As if it felt Stiles’ eyes upon it, it turned towards him. Stiles could almost feel the evil smirk from where he was. 

“Look like the Spark finally came out to play,” a distorted voice taunted.

For once, Stiles didn’t say anything, but concentrated on the Spark, on Derek, on the will to live.  Sunrays began to break through the dark clouds above them, slowly lighting up the area. Stiles relished in their heat and tried to make it one with his power.  He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he could feel the power growing.

A lightning bolt struck on either side of the Nemeton, but did not touch him or Derek.  A dark purple blast of magic came right at him and, unlike last time, he was prepared for it.  He met it with his own burst of light, just willing it away from him.  The attack sped back to his attacker with Stiles’ light on top of it, making it faster.  It knocked the durach to the ground. 

Stiles reached even further into his power, and he could feel all the plants around him.   Testing what he could do, it poked and prodded the extension.  The earth shook slightly and some roots and weeds started to grow out of the ground.

Derek’s hand tightened around his, and Derek kissed the back of his neck, lightly. “I trust you,” Derek whispered in his ear.

Stiles decided that the trees were the most useful.  The roots around the durach began to grow around it and up to the nearest tree.  The durach used its magic, shooting at Stiles, but it was easy to deflect.  Branches and vines joined the roots, tying the durach to the tree.

“You think this will hold me?” The durach snarled as another bolt of lightning hit. 

The tree trunk began to morph, partially enclosing the durach inside of it.

“One last touch,” Stiles whispered and a bright white light hit the durach and the tree; fusing the two together. 

 

Lydia gained consciousness to find Scott and two Wolf-People hovering over her. One of the Wolf-People, the female with blonde hair matted with blood and dirt, had her hand on Lydia’s arm, taking the pain away.  Lydia pursed her lips together.  She didn’t like accepting help from people she didn’t know, but she didn’t throw the hand off her, yet. She moved to sit up, and Scott helped her.  As soon as she was in sitting position and felt balanced in the world, she turned to the female.

“I can take care of myself, dear,” she said, pulling her arm away. The other Wolf-Person, a dark skinned male, gently grabbed her arm, stopping her. 

“You just spent a lot of your energy and power fighting that creature,” he said lowly. 

Lydia raised her eyebrows.  She understood what he was implying, but people rarely ever stopped there with an explanation.

The blonde elbowed him and smiled.  “What he means is that you might be able to take care of yourself, but you’re probably not up to your usual standards right now.”

The statement is mostly kind, but it’s delivered with a tone that Lydia classified as almost cocky and smug.  It made her skin bristle.  She’ll show _her_ how much power she has left.

Scott must sense her irritation, because he quickly intervened. “Lydia, this is Erica and Boyd. They’re thankful for your help against the creature and wish to help.  Maybe you can accept it?”

Lydia glared at him.  “Fine,” she spat out. 

Scott looked relieved and the Wolf-People looked amused.

Lydia took a few minutes to observe her surroundings, and try to figure out how much magic and energy she was low on.  There were dozens of other people on the ground, injured just like her. Wolf-People were circulating as they tried to help their injured.  Although Wolf-People can heal quickly, there are always ways to speed up the process. Herbs and water skins were being brought forward to ease the process. 

Only a few feet away lay the girl that Lydia helped when she arrived.  Lydia suspected she was one for the few kitsunes that had made the Dark Forest their second home.  A Wolf-Person with short, curly hair was helping her bind her wounds.  She must not heal as fast as her fellow Wolf friends. 

She finally caught sight of Stiles, and she was surprised that she hadn’t seen him sooner; he was glowing.  His pale skin was illuminating, making his darker features stand out in stark contrast. He stood tense in front of a tree, his hand clasped in Derek’s, who was standing right beside him. She looked at them thoughtfully. A child of Eris and a child of Elatha; a mix of texts ran through her mind.  There was either a prophesy or a story of the past that emphasized the two’s relationship, but she couldn’t remember.  It would be her next research project. 

As Stiles stepped forward and spoke to the tree, Lydia realized it wasn’t just a tree but the durach encased by the tree. 

She turned to Scott.  “What happened after I passed out?”

His eyes flickered over to Stiles, and he’s face became confused. “I think Stiles activated the Spark you all kept talking about?  He was glowing even more and the earth shook.  A lot of weird things, but it gained the creature’s –“ 

“Durach,” Lydia corrected.

“Durach’s attention.  There was a bunch of lightning, but no one got hurt.  The next thing I know, the Durach is like that,” he said gesturing. 

“We don’t have a next step planned,” Boyd murmured. 

Lydia looked back over at the Durach.   “Well, I do.”

Stiles listened to Derek whisper softly in his ear.  “You’re doing great, just concentrate on my breathing, Stiles.”

Derek had been repeating that every few minutes and rubbing his back soothingly. Stiles tried to match his breathing with Derek’s and rein the power and energy in, but it was hard. He could feel so much under the surface; he knew that he could cause dozens of plants to spout instantaneously; to impart life into all those around them, causing them to heal, but he also saw him going too far and causing them to burst from the input of power. There was so much potential, but he didn’t think he would be able to stop it before it became too much. Too much pressure and he could cause the tree and vines to strangle the Durach, which was no good, because he wanted answers from it.  He was sure the Wolf-People did too. 

Derek’s lips came down on his skin and kissed his neck gently. Stiles gasped at the feeling and his body strummed with energy and need.  The Spark was going to do amazing things for his libido, he could tell.

“I wouldn’t do that right now,” Stiles gasped out. 

 Derek grew still and quiet before he murmured, “Come here,” and gently pulled Stiles in front of him.  Derek’s arms wound around his waist and his head settled on Stiles’ chest. 

For the first few seconds, Stiles’ body went into overdrive, categorizing every inch of Derek up against him, but it faded away quickly. Stiles felt like he was encased in a warm cocoon of love.  He settled against Derek happily, sighing as the energy finally simmered down.  

“Enjoying yourselves?” Lydia asked, appearing next to them, Scott and two Wolf-People with her. 

Derek growled a little and his grip on Stiles tightened.

“Relax, I’m not here for him,” she said and turned to the Durach. “I’m here for her.”

“Her?” Stiles asked, curious. 

Lydia walked forward and tugged the hood off the Durach.

Stiles, Derek, and Scott all basped in surprise. Jennifer, the Head Priestess of Mealla, glared at them. 

Scott looked at Jennifer in shock. “A Head Priestess…that’s impossible.  They’re good people and –“

“Human,” Lydia said pointedly.  “It’s improbable, not impossible.”

“Why?” Stiles asked.  It was really starting to bug him now that the fight was all over.  He didn’t understand why any of this had happened at all.

“What do you know about the history of the kitsunes in our land?”

Stiles shrugged.  He hadn’t even heard of a kitsune before. 

“They traded their allegiance from Maella to Elatha,” a voice said. Derek turned both of them so Stiles was looking at woman around his mother’s age with pure black hair.

Stiles felt Derek bow his head against Stiles’ neck.  “Noshiko,”he greeted.

“Knight Derek,” she responded with a nod of her head.  She looked around the clearing of the Nemeton and her eyes landed on a figure still on the ground.  The one that was fighting the Durach when Stiles arrived.  Stiles guessed she was her daughter due to the similarities. 

“I apologize I wasn’t here sooner.  I was distracted by the lightning storms in other areas of the forest.”

“Kira took care of it,” Derek replied. 

Noshiko looked back at the girl on the ground and then stepped closer to the Durach.  “I’m afraid the blame lies with me,”

Jennifer bared her teeth.  “You’re a traitor,” she hissed. 

“Explain,” Derek ordered. 

Noshiko turned and faced them.  Kira slowly got up and hobbled over to their little gathering, relying heavily on another Wolf-Person for support. 

Stiles thought she would talk to her daughter as she explained, and was surprised when her eyes landed on his. 

“I am a kitsune.  We come from a distant land.  We are akin to foxes and blessed with ability to harness lightning.  We don’t make it out of thin air like the druids and priestess are able to, but utilize what is already in the air.  We left our home when I was very young and traveled for a long time before we came here.  I was just older than my daughter then. 

When we settled into the country, Maella’s Head Priestess at the time approached us.  We slowly formed a tentative friendship with them.  It seemed right, a relationship with the Goddess of Lightning. 

I was foolish, as many young people are.  I fell in love with a druid whose power revolved around lighting.  He prayed to Maella daily as thanks for his power.  He made sacrifices and did the rituals like any loyal worshipper would.  But, it did not save him. 

One day, he was experimenting with his power, and went too far. He became trapped in his own lightning cloud.  We begged Maella for her help, but she refused.  I prayed to any and all gods for help, desperate to save his life. Elatha responded. He promised to help but required my loyalty in return.  How could I refuse? He sent one of the Wolf-People to help. A young Hale, Talia’s grandmother. She and her brother came and figured out a pattern to the cloud and its lightning charges.  When they had it timed right, Hale pushed him out of the cloud to safety, but got hit by lightning herself.  It almost killed her and stopped her heart.  That was when we learned what the electrical current did to the Wolf-People. Their one true weakness.

I joined Talia in the Dark Forest after that to keep my promise to Elatha. The rest of my family followed after they learned that Mealla had refused us any aide, but it earned us some enemies.  The priestesses and druids of Maella, including my lover, felt betrayed, and a grudge was developed by Mealla towards the followers of Elatha, his children in particular.   They’ve been suffering for almost a century because of my actions.  The Dark Forest has been a target for lighting storms and damaging their homes. We’ve done the best we can to combat the lightning, but it obviously hasn’t been enough.”

Stiles turned to Jennifer in shock, “You did all of this for some petty revenge?”

“No one disrespects Mealla and gets away with it,” She snarled.  

“That’s not all of it,” Lydia said calmly.  “And, it’s not your fault,” she said, looking at Noshiko. “Jennifer has been slowly leaving her role as priestess behind for years.  She’s been focusing on her own power, not living her life for her goddess. It’s why I left, because I couldn’t do it.  There was more that I wanted to do, but I had a Head Priestess that knew and could tell. She taught me how to expand my power and become a druid after I left my priestess role.  But as the Head Priestess, no one kept close tabs on Jennifer. No one noticed.”

Lydia was slowly stepping closer and closer to Jennifer with her eyes cold. Stiles shivered as it reminded him or her when she tried to steal his Spark, but she held no sympathy this time.

“It became obvious to me that someone was messing with the order. The druids have their own system and rules.  We don’t know sacrifice our lives for the gods, but we are still their people.  We do not stray from their paths.  But she has.  She has gone against all rules and broke into dark magic, which relies on murder and not sacrifice.  It’s all self-interest and nothing else." 

Lydia stopped right in front of Jennifer.  “We’ve known something was wrong for a while. The balance was off and the animals were migrating to different homes.  The forests were no longer our sanctuary,” she whispered dangerously. “You have not only gone against the Priestess’ order, but the druid’s.  There are consequences to be faced.”

She turned to Stiles.  “I tried to steal your Spark to protect my people and our forests against her, but I miscalculated.  I should have just asked for your help. “ She turned back to Jennifer.  “I might not have been able to take the Spark, but that does not mean I am incompetent. “

Lydia plunged her hand into the tree and into Jennifer’s body. Stiles’ stomach flipped at the sight and he turned more into Derek’s body, but he couldn’t turn away. 

Lydia’s eyes turned white, glowing with her power, and as she extracted her hand Jennifer’s purple magic came with it and swirled around Lydia. Lydia’s breathing became labored and Jennifer started screaming in anger.  Then, Lydia’s eyes turned bright lavender as the magic settled into a single lavender globe in her hand.  With a snap of her fingers the magic disappeared completely. 

Jennifer stared back at her in horror.  “What did you do?”

Lydia smirked.  “I just took your power. The balance will be restored again soon. You, my dear, are powerless.”

Stiles shivered against Derek.  He was glad she was on their side. 

 

Derek’s mind was spinning from all the new information.  It explained why their home and their people had been in a bit of decay, but not why it had been so bad recently.  It had been more than just the lightning storms. He tried to maintain his even breathing and concentrate on Stiles’ heartbeat, but it was only making him more panicked.  Did he still have to sacrifice the Spark?  Was there more to be fixed? Derek didn’t know anymore.

“What about the Nemeton?” Kira asked, and everyone turned to look at her. Her cheeks burned slightly, but she tried to stand taller. 

“There is this dark goo surrounding the roots,” She explained.

“It looks like it’s poison,” Isaac added.

Derek gulped.  That would explain why they were weakening.  Their power source was not only tied to Elatha, but the Nemeton.  

“I -,” Stiles sputtered nervously.  “The sacrifice.” 

Derek closed his eyes, he didn’t want to think about it. He could feel Stiles turn around and grabbed his face by the cheeks softly.  “Derek, open your eyes.”

His eyes fluttered open reluctantly.

“It’s okay,” Stiles whispered.  “You can still do the sacrifice.  I understand.”

Derek shook his head desperately.  He couldn’t believe he was going to have to go through the whole thing again.

“Now, who said anything about a sacrifice?”  Deaton said as he stepped out from the trees.

Derek gapped at him.  “You did, you said-“

“Seek the Spark,” Deaton replied calmly as his eyes slid over to Stiles. “And I see you found him.”

“No sacrifice?” Stiles squeaked out.

Deaton shook his head.  “No sacrifice,” A sly smile took over his face as he looked at Derek.  “We need the Spark to heal the Nemeton.”

Derek found himself crying in relief and pulled Stiles close to his body.

Stiles’ heart is going crazy, but Derek knows he’s happy too. “Oh, thank god,” Stiles laughed in Derek’s ear.  Stiles then nuzzled Derek’s cheek.  “That means we get to do this again.  And again.” Derek let Stiles pull him in for another kiss.  It wasn’t very good, as neither of them could stop smiling and were more laughing breathlessly into each other’s open mouths, but it felt amazing. 

Deaton cleared his throat and gestured to the Nemeton.  “Shall we?” 

Stiles pecked Derek on the cheek and joined Deaton on the ground. He watches happily as Deaton guides Stiles through the steps.  Stiles turns to look at him before he starts to glow, working on his magic.

Boyd and Erica approach him.

“Derek,” Boyd said softly, his voice the complete opposite of the elation Derek was feeling. 

Derek turned to them slowly, not wanting to give up what he’s feeling.

“There’s some things you need to know,” Erica added.  They lead him towards a body on the ground. Derek shakes as he follows them, remembering the form of the body he saw before the attempted sacrifice. When he got close to identify her, he fell to the ground.  “Laura.”


	4. Part Four

After Deaton showed him how to heal the Nemeton and gave him tips and exercises on how to start trying to control the Spark, Stiles was ecstatic to return to Derek, especially now that there wasn’t a sacrifice hanging over his head. He thought – well, he didn’t know what he thought.  There wasn’t a ton of time between all the events.  Just the idea of him and Derek enjoying some time together sounded great, and he was pretty sure Derek would be agreeable to the idea.  But, when he finished at the Nemeton and Deaton brought him to the Hale’s dwellings, he found Derek and the rest of the Hale’s in mourning. Instead of a celebration, he found a funeral. 

After Deaton introduced him, Talia Halethanked him for his help. And that was it. Derek never even looked up from the ground.  So Stiles had swallowed his feelings down and left with Scott and Lydia.  Lydia traveled with them as far as her forest before she waved good bye. 

Stiles thought about wishing her luck, but he doubted that she needed it. For once, he was the silent in their travels as Scott chatted nonstop on the way back home.  While Stiles was working on the Nemeton, Scott had enough time to talk to Kira, who was Noshiko’s daughter, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica and was recounting some of the cooler things he had seen in battle. Stiles let him talk, although he tuned him out after the first five minutes.  He had no desire to think of the Wolf-People anytime soon.

They arrived to frantic parents – even Scott’s father was back from the castle where he worked, and Stiles had only seen him once in his life. Hell, Scott had only seen him once in his life.  It didn’t take long to explain the situation to Claudia, who immediately understood.

All Stiles wanted to do was forget about his exciting little adventure and go back to his old life.  Or really, sulk back into his old life, and mope around, but there was no time for that. Claudia left a few days after Stiles and Scott returned to visit the Shrine of Eris and Morrell. She returned early the next morning and had a long and whispered conversation with Stiles’ father and then with Melissa. The next thing Stiles knew, she was sending him and Scott to go live in the Dark Forest.  Claudia promised that Deaton would be waiting for them. It was arranged for his safety. If word spread of the Keeper of the Spark and its power, she wanted him where he could be protected. She also thought that he could learn a lot from the Wolf-People on how to control his Spark. She said that they too had a power they had to learn how to control.  Stiles half-heartedly protested; he knew it was a good plan, and Scott was excited to head back.  Their parents promised to visit soon, and Claudia was going to take over looking over the garden again. 

Before Stiles and Scott had even walked over a mile away from their home, Danny appeared in their path.  Lydia had sent him to act as his body guard.  Stiles was less than amused, but he proved helpful.  Stiles didn’t have the mind to keep an eye out for other travelers, whereas Danny was able to keep them unseen until they reached the borders of the Dark Forest where Deaton met them. 

Stiles tried to ignore his heart and its nervous beating at the thought of seeing Derek again. 

  

Derek had lost himself when he saw Laura’s dead body; all he could think of was the dozen mistakes he had made and how he could have prevented it. When he went to turn to Stiles for comfort – he was gone.  The next few days he grieved for her and the one that left.  His friends stayed close, trying to help, but eventually he only let Kira stay.  She wouldn’t say anything, but let him grief.  

His mother was insanely busy.  Laura was not the only one they lost that night.  There were many ceremonies to hold and lead with Deaton.  Laura’s was the last one to do, three days later. Her husband had carried her to the Nemeton, and Talia had spoken the words for remembrance before Deaton lit her body on fire.  An hour later, ashes were all that remained, which were swept into the forest by the wind. One by one, the family left until he and his mother remained.  

Talia went and stood next to Derek, putting her arm around his shoulders.

“Maybe this was for the best,” she whispered.

Derek turned to her, repulsed. 

Talia gave him a sad, little smile.  “Now, she’s finally at peace”

“She’s dead,” Derek said bluntly, staring at his mother in horror.

“Everyone’s time comes eventually, Derek.  You know that,”

Derek shook his head.  “This wasn’t right. She was so young and vibrant. She was meant to lead.”

“She was,” Talia agreed.  “Many years ago.  She wouldn’t have been able to after the miscarriage.”

Derek winced, trying to push down on the memories that started to resurface.

“Derek, I know you loved your sister, and she was a strong and amazing woman. But that night changed her.” Talia walked forward to the Nemeton, knelt down and placed her hand upon it.  “It changed a lot of us.  As your parent and your alpha, I’ve tried to prepare you for a lot of things. I never thought I had to prepare any of you for that.  It ripped her apart.”

They stayed as they were.  Talia looked upon the Nemeton, deep in thought as Derek recalled Laura’s last few years. She and her husband had been fighting. She showed up at their childhood home more and more.  Now that he thought about it, she had almost reverted to the child she once was. She took over the same chores and made fun of him over the same old things.  Now, Derek realized she was haunted by her life with her husband; her adult life.

Eventually, Talia stood up and went back to her son.  “All I’ve ever wanted is for my children to be happy. I’d like to think that now she is.”

She left then, leaving Derek alone with his thoughts. 

* * *

 

It was hard to come to terms with Laura’s death and accepting it as the best fate, but he threw himself into his training.  He and Kira practiced sword fighting, which he wasn’t any good at. It was good for him, and kept him busy.

A week later, they were training out in the forest, away from the village center.  Derek had cuts rapidly healing all over his body from when he was too slow and Kira nicked him with her sword.  He was faltering; his body tired from having to heal constantly. A few minutes later she beat him, her sword pointed at his throat, and his back up against a tree.

Before Derek could say he surrendered, yelling startled both of them. 

“Stop!   What do you think you’re doing?”

The voice sounded painfully familiar, but before Derek could confirm anything, branches wrapped Derek up and threw him away from Kira. When he looked up, Kira was imprisoned by vines, and Stiles and Scott were standing in front of her.

Both of Sties and Kira were yelling. 

Derek got up and made his way over to the trio.  He was going to defend Kira, that was his whole goal, but instead the first words out of his mouth were, “I thought you left.”

Stiles snapped his mouth shut and looked at him.  “I-uh.  Did. I came back.”

“Why?”

Stiles looked irritated at the questions and crossed his arms. “Why did I leave or why did I return?

“I-“ Derek wasn’t really sure what he was asking. He glanced at Scott who also crossed his arms in solidarity.  “Both.”

Stiles shrugged.  “It doesn’t really matter, “ he muttered.  “I’m staying here.”

“How long have you been back?” Derek asked, not able to stop himself from asking another question.

“Almost two weeks."

Derek’s heart dropped in his chest.  Stiles hadn’t even cared enough to see him. “Oh.”

“If you let me go, I’ll tell you a secret,” Kira said, wriggling her arms that were encircled by the vines.  They immediately started to loosen. 

“You’re control has gotten better,” Derek muttered.

Stiles didn’t respond.  Instead, he turned to Kira.  “So, what’s this about a secret?”

“He’s been moping for the past two weeks.  One because he lost friends and family that day and two, because you left.”

Derek flinched.  He would’ve expected that out of Erica or Isaac, but not Kira.  She’s normally more respectful of his feelings, but then Stiles looked at him, wide-eyed and hopeful. 

“I didn’t think you noticed I was gone,” He said, speaking to the dirt floor.

Derek scowled.  “Or course I did.”

Stiles didn’t look too convinced, so Derek tried to remember the aftermath of the battle with the Durach.  Nothing stood out, he vaguely remembered Deaton showing up at his house with visitors in tow.  Belatedly, Derek realized that he left Stiles with Deaton, and never made an effort to find him and welcome in into his home and pack.  After all, Stiles was the one in the strange place. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek said.  “I was in mourning for my sister.  I didn’t think – I was having trouble thinking, to be honest.  I just remember thinking you should be there and you weren’t.”

Stiles’ eyebrows rose.  “What do you mean, I should’ve been there?”

Derek hesitated and looked to Kira for help, she gestured at Stiles obviously. “It felt like you should be there. It was right.  Like you belonged.  It – threw me when you weren’t.  I thought you left because you didn’t want to be.  Here.  With me.”

Stiles smacked his lips together loudly and then turned to Scott. “Why don’t you and Kira go get acquainted or something?”

Scott turned bright red as he looked at Kira.  Kira flushed too, and broke into a huge smile. “Do you want to see my sword collection?”

Both Derek and Stiles snorted as Scott nodded quickly and scampered off after Kira. 

Stiles cleared his throat, getting Derek’s attention.  “I left because I thought you didn’t care if I stayed. I realize now it was stupid. I didn’t know you lost anyone, but so many people died that night – I should’ve known you would’ve known someone.”

Derek nodded.  “My sister, Laura.”

Stiles’ mouth opened in shock.  “Shit, Derek. I’m so sorry.  After everything she’s gone through. . .”he trailed off and shook his head in sympathy.

It made Derek’s heart clench a little that Stiles remembered her story.  

“Mom thinks it might be for the best – because of it.”

Stiles looked at him assessing.  “Do you?”

“For her?  Probably. She was haunted. But,” Derek sighed, and ran a hand over his face.

“But, it doesn’t make it any easier for you,” Stiles finished for him. Derek nodded. 

“It’s selfish of me.”

“It’s human,” Stiles argued. 

They stood there in silence. 

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that alone.  I should’ve been there,” before Derek could interrupt him, Stiles corrected himself.  “I wanted to have been there.

Derek’s mouth felt dry when he opened it again.  “Do you still want to be here?”

Stiles nodded. 

Derek took a deep breath before he continued.  “Things have been changing for me.  Because of Laura, and because I found you. It probably won’t settle down for a few months, but maybe we can see if – by then.  Maybe you could stay with me, then.” 

Stiles grinned.  “Yeah?”

Derek nodded.  “If things work out between now and then.”

“I think we can work something out,” Stiles whispered against Derek’s lips before kissing him. 

Derek was more than happy to kiss back. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I and saran-is-wrapped can be fond on tumblr under our specific names. Make sure to send her some love!


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